Emilia, follow'd by a Page at a distance.
Em.
Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! I shall die! ha! ha!
oh! hold me—
Vill.
Here! here! take the Sots Cordial; a little of
the same—read on and live—
(gives her a Letter)
Em.
Ha! ha! ha! This Letter has something in
it! I wish a Lover of mine wou'd write so—I
shou'd like it far beyond your charming Shapes, pretty
Mouths, or all the fine Eyes in the World—
such Compliments are meer Whip-cream to this.
Vill.
You are smitten Emilia!
Em.
Why he writes the finest in the World! and
there's not a Woman in Venice, except your Ladyship,
but wou'd be smitten too—let's see if it be
possible to resist such Eloquence.
(reads)
-- 2 --
Madam,
I love you very much; as a proof of my Sincerity,
I am worth Two hundred thousand Cechines,
and will settle all to reconcile you to the
Name of
ANTONIO.
Vill.
A saucy Fellow!
Em.
Nay then I don't know what you call Civil—
I never saw such a well-bred Letter in my Life. I love
a Banker's inditing! When shou'd one hear a Courtier
say so? I wonder you are not mov'd at it, and a Widow
too!
Vill.
'Tis for that reason! The greatest Happiness
of our Lives, is to have got free from the Mens Dominion
very early; they are all Tyrants—
Em.
If the Piece indeed be as bad as your Pattern.
Vill.
It must be so; all Husbands are the same; Love
makes 'em our Prisoners, and Jealousy our Goalers; so
between these two, a poor Woman has no quiet—
Em.
Till they are dead.
Vill.
Ha! ha! right Emilia; the Grave gives more
People rest, than those it holds—take care you
don't want that comfort.
Em.
I fear it not—because you have burnt your
Mouth, shan't keep me from tasting—I'll venture
upon a Man, in spite of all the Terror about him—in
a Province of Italy too.
Vill.
The worst Place in the World to marry in;
if one wou'd be a Mistress, I shou'd chuse Italy; If a
Wife, England, but a Maid shou'd live in France, for
-- 3 --
there she may have all the Enjoyments of the other two,
and keep her Character.
Em.
Upon such terms indeed one might live a Maid
all ones Life.
Vill.
Ha! ha! without repining at leading Apes hereafter.
Em.
The Curse wou'd be a little moderated.
Vill.
With these Principles, Emilia, you may pass
your time well enough, be your Tyrant ever so much an
Italian; for Love will always be too cunning for Jealousy.
Em.
Nay if he suspected my Virtue, the first thing
I'd do, shou'd be to lose it—If he set a Spy of his
own Sex upon me, as many Husbands do, I'd find a
way to bribe my Keeper, as all Wives do—And
if he lock'd me up—
Vill.
You cou'd have no way left—
Em.
But Imagination—and that shou'd revenge
me every Minute.
Vill.
Spoke like the Spirit of our Sex! I find the Men
will get nothing by opposing us, we are all English
by Nature, and to flatter us, is the best way to enslave
us—But to avoid the hazzard, I'll treat all Men
as I do this Fellow—Page! bear this back to Antonio,
and tell him, if he has the assurance to write
again, I'll have his Ears taken off, and nail'd up in the
Ryalto.
(Exit Page with a Letter)
Em.
Well now cou'd not I for my Heart have sent
such an Answer to a Compliment of 200 thousand—
Why the Duke himself don't say finer things to you.
Vill.
I seldom mind what he says, and the reason
I don't quite put him off, is, because it pleases me
to govern him that governs Venice.
-- 4 --
Em.
I shou'd not venture so far—Beauty's an Empire
that won't last always.
Vill.
As long as I live Emilia—When knew you a
rich Womans Face have any Wrinkles, or a rich Man's
Head any Folly?
Em.
Then the Banker's must be an ingenious one.
Vill.
Name him no more—such a greasy Fellow
next my Stomach, is enough to give me the Spleen all
Day.
Em.
What with so much Gold about him? I'm
told it's the best Cure of it in the World, and brightens
the Complexion—No body has the Spleen but
old Women, and younger Brothers—Say what you
will, Villaretta, a Banker has his Charms.
Vill.
But she that weds for those Charms, may find
her self ne'er the Handsomer.
Em.
I'm strangely deceived then—for tho' they'll give
little, yet they'll trust one with all; and I shou'd
scarce be the first Steward that did not provide for
my self.
Vill.
Nay, you're a States-man's Daughter, and they
never were concern'd in the Government, that can
tell Money and be poor, Cosen.
Em.
But Husbands, I fear, reckon better than the
Publick. And if after ten Years Managery, I shou'd
be so unfortunate to be found out.
Vill.
The Calamity wou'd come too late. The
Steward wou'd be too great for the Lord.
Em.
Yet there wou'd be some little Flaws in our
Character.
Vill.
Not if there were none in your Estate.
Em.
I like your Philosophy extreamly—why this is
Virtue all Woman-kind may follow—But to be grave,
these Men, after all, have made a poor Woman's Conduct
so difficult, that most of our Pleasures clash with
-- 5 --
our Reputation—'tis not so with them; they may do
any thing, and yet be Men of Honour.
Vill.
Those that make Laws will always favour themselves.
They have made their own Honour consist in
Bravery, which is for their advantage; but ours to consist
in Chastity, which is not for ours.
Em.
If we had order'd things, it had been the Mens
part to be Modest, Faithful, Reserved, and hating
every thing they desired, and ours to ha' done what we
please.
Vill.
The World had been much better govern'd
that's certain—Why shou'd a pack of Bald-pated, shriveled
old Fellows, give Laws to us that are young and
handsome?
Em.
So Arbitarily too—They have left us nothing—
but the power of deceiving 'em.
Vill.
And that no body can take from a Woman.
Em.
'Tis pretty well employ'd too—for we look
upon their Ordinances, as a Lawyer does upon a new
Statute, not to mind the intent of it, but to find a hole
to creep out at.
Vill.
Ha! ha! and I have been told that 'tis impossible
to make 'em so binding, but one may find some,
Emilia.
Em.
Ha! ha! yet how can we get over so palpable
a Law, as Wives be true to your Husbands.
Vill.
O! by making them get over as palpable a Condition;
Husbands love your Wives; which now you
know is not the Fashion.
Enter a Foot-man.
Foot.
Madam, The Duke of Venice desires to wait
upon your Ladyship.
-- 6 --
Vill.
Let him stay—I an't at leisure yet—
(Exit Foot.)
This mighty Man, Emilia, comes so often, I shall be
tired with laughing at him—I'll e'en give him his
Answer, as my Woman calls it.
Em.
People might dispence with your leavings, the
Banker, and the Duke; all Woman han't such Lovers
to throw away—
Vill.
All Lovers are alike to me, Emilia, they're Men;
and when a Hypocrite is known, 'tis ridiculous to see
him practice his soft Airs, forc'd Languishments, and
low Bows:
Em.
Soft! here's the Duke.
Vill.
Then for an Instance.
Enter Moreno, bowing very low.
Mor.
Madam, I come to prove Moreno's Fate.
This Day has been propitious to our Race;
My Father on it triumph'd o'er the Turks,
And gain'd the lost Morea to the State.
Moreno's Fortune may be great as his,
If Heaven and Villaretta will be kind.
Vill.
Still upon this Subject, my Lord—? you know
my Mind; that I assure you is not Woman, for it shall
never alter—so no more, my Lord.
Mor.
Yet hear me, Madam, I do not offer you a
Wretch, a Vagabond, an Out-law.
Vill.
No! a Duke of Venice.
(smiling)
Mor.
Madam, I plead no merit from my Fortune;
all Honour vanishes before the Fair; and all are mean
to Villaretta's Eyes.
-- 7 --
Em. (Aside.)
The poor Man is certainly in earnest!
Mor.
Nay, I wou'd for ever quit all Glory, Friends,
the World, if to lose those Trifles, I shou'd gain your
Favour.
Vill.
No promising, my true Lord; but cease this
whining Entertainment, and when we meet, let us
have no Speeches with Sighs at the end of 'em.
Em. (Aside to her)
Well! if he has half so much
Modesty as Passion, I'll answer for your quiet hereafter—
Vill.
No bleeding Heart, soft Sonnet, purling Streams,
nor such like melancholy Things.
Mor. (Aside)
That I cou'd tear the Tyrant from my
Breast. A true Merciless, Insolent—Charming Woman—!
Em. (to Vill.)
Cousen Drances drunk, as I live!
Enter Drances.
Dra.
My Lord, I'm yours.
Mor.
Segnior Drances—
Vill. (Aside)
One Fool is enough at once—
(fretting)
Dra.
What my Cousen in her moods? My Lord,
don't mind her—If you had been as deep in the Cellar
as I have, you wou'd not care a Fig for her—The Jade
is a Virtue, my Lord, and I never knew a Woman
have the least good Nature, that had any Honesty, by
Jupiter.
Em.
I believe, Sir, your Acquaintance are very good
Natured.
Dra.
Well said Coz.! My Lord, I'm no Sinner, if
I had not once a strong Inclination to strain a Commandment
with that fresh colour'd Cousen of mine—She's a
pretty Wench, and Flesh and Blood you know—But
my dear Lord be merry
-- 8 --
Mor.
That from Villaretta, wou'd make me so for
ever.
Vill.
Then I desire it my Lord, and leave you to't for
ever.
(Exeunt Em. and Vill.)
Mor.
She's gone, and all that's happy with her.
Dra.
Let her go, my Lord—Hang these Women,
they're never good Company when there's more than
one Man in the Room with 'em.
Mor.
You're a happy Man, Drances—when shall I
have your Quiet?
Dra.
When you drink like me—Sit but a Hand out,
my Lord—All the Joys in Nature lie in the second
Bottle; your Groves, and Streams, and Nightingales—
and twenty things besides Women with black
Eyes.
Mor.
If Villaretta appear'd there, I'd drink for
ever.
Dra.
Live with me, my Lord, and try—Ha! ha!
my Kinswoman and I, you must know, divide the
House; all under-ground is mine; the whole Region of
Mirth and Claret. I can't look upward without a Trespass—
Ha! ha! I happened to whisper her House-maid,
that I had fallen in love with one Morning at Prayers,
and she sent her to the Devil immediately, for I never
saw her after.
Mor.
Where cou'd you fly for that Day.
Dra.
To the Curate's Comfort, my Lord; a Bottle
and a Pipe; for grief is never eas'd so well, as when
its drown'd; try it my Lord, drink, and remember Villaretta
no more.
Mor. (Sighs)
Dra.
Don't sigh, my Lord, it has a dead Sound,
there's some Musick now in a Hick-up.
-- 9 --
Mor.
What can I do, when Villaretta is so cruel?
Dra.
Do, my Lord! why you go the wrong way to
do any thing with a Widow—
Mor.
If my Love and Services won't recommend me—
Dra.
Potguns! they may do well enough with a
Maid—A Country unus'd to War, and easily surpriz'd;
but a Widow's a fortify'd Town, that has had Enemies
before it, and will never be taken, my Lord, without
you bring down the great Guns upon it.
Mor.
But in Love, Drances, we must all fight like
French-men; if we can't bribe the Governour, we shall
never come at the Garrison.
Dra.
Well, my Lord, to serve you, and to divert
a Mistress of mine—for Cupid has been playing about
the Edges of my Glass, and just put in the tip
of his Arrow—'tis but a slight Wound; Dromia's
Darts han't kill'd out-right—
Mor.
Not these 50 Years: Why you had better
marry your Grand-mother: She'll neither administer
to your Happiness nor Mirth.
Dra.
But she makes the best Water-gruel in the
World—Others marry to have more Care, but I
to be taken care off—The diversion is, I have told
the Butler, (who is a very silly Fellow, my Lord,)
that my Cousin is in Love with him.
Mor.
And how did it move him?
Dra.
As Sack and Sugar does a Midwife—He
lick'd his Lips immediately, and sent for a Taylor to
make him a Gentleman.
Mor.
To make him a Gentleman?
Dra.
Ay, my Lord, they make more in a Year than
the Heralds-Office, or a Welch Genealogist; especially
your pretty Gentlemen are all made so—
Mor.
But how will this serve me?
-- 10 --
Dra.
It will beat down her Pride, the grand Bulwork,
that defends more Women than Virtue—But
follow me into the Cellar, and I'll tell you more—I
never speak well without a Flask under my Arm; for
as the Chaplain says; The Dry are always Dull.
Mor. (Aside)
No body's so fit to keep a Sot Company,
as he that's deny'd Villaretta's.
(Exeunt)
Enter Cæsario and Laura.
Scene changes to the Duke's House.
Cæs.
Prithee Wench lay by thy Fears.
Laur.
Alas! Madam, it grieves me to think that
my Lady must be a Servant, that may be so waited on!
To be a Page, and wear Breeches too!
(weeps)
Cæs.
You talk like a Woman, Laura, I must make
you wear Breeches too, to be less fearful.
Laur.
Oh! dear Madam, ha! ha! your Ladyship
makes me laugh.
Cæs.
This Servitude is Freedom, for it brings me to
the Man I love—The little Spot that holds him, Laura,
is all the Liberty I ask; the World without it is a Prison.
Laur.
Nay, Love is a parlous Thing, I know Madam—
I was troubled with it once, and remember
well I cou'd not sleep a Nights! but it went off in a
Week, for I found he had not Money enough.
Cæs.
Ha! ha! poor Laura! then you'd ha' broke
your Heart for him, if he had had Money enough?
-- 11 --
Laur.
'Twou'd ha' been bad with me I believe; but
when a Sweetheart is poor, Madam, 'tis as hard to Love,
as to be Charitable.
Cæs.
Ha! ha! ha! This Wench will kill me with
her extreme Stupidity! ha! ha!
Laur.
Lord, Madam! you look so like your Brother
when you laugh, and in these Cloaths too, that, I vow,
I can't tell but you are my Master Sebastian, all this
while.
Cæs.
'Twou'd puzzel one of better Sense than thee,
Laura, to distinguish it—for besides our likeness, I
have drest my self as he use to do; but to put you out
of doubt, behold the only apparent difference between
us, this Mole!
(bares her Arm)
Laur.
O my dear Lady Viola! 'tis you, I know it
now—The Duke, Madam, took me with him, to
wait upon his Sister, and I have liv'd here ever since—
I little thought to see your Ladyship my Fellow-servant—!
(weeps)
Cæs.
I'm greater now, than when I was thy Mistress.
Laur.
I hope my Lord is kind to you, for he charges
us all to be so—But, dear Madam, how could you
venture to do this? I'm in a Maze yet!
Cæs.
I'll tell thee all, because thou should'st not
trouble me with more Questions, and because I love
to speak of him.
Laur. (Aside)
That's the truest Reason, I know by
my self.
Cæs.
I saw him first in France, and lov'd him; these
two Years I have lov'd him; unable longer to endure
the torture of my Wishes, I left my Brother, and
-- 12 --
my House, and 6 Days since, without a Servant, landed
here in Venice—
Lau.
Your Ladyship makes me weep again.
Cæs.
I nam'd my self Cæsario, and form'd a Letter,
as from one his Highness knew in Paris, to recommend
me for his Page—Upon it, Laura, he receiv'd me;
lik'd my Person; calls me pretty Youth; makes me
sing to him, and sometimes kisses me.
Lau.
Then you are happy, Madam.
Cæs.
If it were meant me as a Woman; but he kills
me while he makes me happy, for in the midst of all,
he sighs, and talks to me of a Lady that he loves.
Lau.
Nay, then all's marr'd again.
Cæs.
But she is cruel to him, and hates him.
Lau.
That's good again, Madam. Have you seen
this Lady?
Cæs.
No, but he has told me who she is, and designs
to send me with a Message to her.
Lau.
Its like to be done well, if you carry it—But
how can you do any thing for your self, Madam?
'Twill be impossible for him to see a Woman, as they
say, thro' a Pair of Breeches.
Cæs.
No more than thro' a Nun's Habit—When I
find a proper time for my purpose, a little thing will
shew him what I am.
Lau.
I shall die with Joy if it so happens! Your
Ladyship will be happy indeed; for his Highness is
a sort of King here.
Cæs.
Is that to be happy indeed, Laura?
Lau.
O! dear Madam, without question: I admire
a King so much, that I cou'd marry one, that had only
a Twelfth-Cake for his Dominions.
Cæs.
Ha! ha! a small Country! but in Italy you may
find fifty such Princes—Ha! ha! prithee, Laura,
how would'st thou govern thy little Nation?
-- 13 --
Lau.
As Princes (in those Parts) generally do, Madam;
devour as much as I cou'd of it.
Cæs.
You are the first Monarch that ever was so
free.
Lau.
Pardon me, Madam, I forgot I was talking to
your Ladyship.
Cæs.
Nay, then 'tis plain you'd make a good Governour,
for thou seest nothing but what thou look'st upon,
poor Laura!—Hold, I'm call'd, now we must be private
Persons again.
(within,
Cæsario, Cæsario.)
Enter Footman.
Foot.
O! here he is—Sir, the Duke is come home
very much out of Humour, and wants you immediately.
Cæs.
Doest know the Cause of his Disorder?
Foot.
No Sir; he came from the Lady Villaretta's, and
seems to be very sick.
(Exit Foot.)
Cæs.
Hum!—I come.
He must be sicker yet, e'er I am well,
And feel the last Convulsions of Despair—
But Love must work this wonder in his Breast,
And Banish quite that happy Woman thence:
Shew me the soft Avenues to his Heart;
His Soul unruffl'd, every Thought at ease:
A lucky Hour may all my Toils repair,
When I may talk of Love, and he may hear!
Exeunt.
End of the first ACT.
-- 14 --
William Burnaby [1703], Love Betray'd; or, the Agreable Disapointment. A comedy. As it was Acted at the Theatre in Lincolns-Inn-Fields. By the Author of The Ladies Visiting-Day (Printed for D. Brown... [and] F. Coggan [etc.], London) [word count] [S33100].
