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AN EPISTLE TO THE READER.

Good, Sweet, Honey, Sugar-Candied Reader,

Which I think is more than anyone has called you yet, I must have a word or two with you before you do advance into the Treatise; but ’tis not to beg your pardon for diverting you from your affairs, by such an idle Pamphlet as this is, for I presume you have not much to do and therefore are to be obliged to me for keeping you from worse employment, and if you have a better you may get you gone about your business: but if you will misspend your Time, pray lay the fault upon yourself; for I have dealt pretty fairly in the matter, told you in the Title Page what you are to expect within. Indeed, had I hung a sign of the Immortality of the Soul, of the Mystery of Godliness, or of Ecclesiastical Policie, and then had treated you with Indiscerpibility and Essential Spissitude (words, which though I am no competent Judge of, for want of Languages, yet I fancy strongly ought to mean just nothing) with a company of Apocryphal midnight Tales cull’d out of the choicest Insignificant Authors; If I had only proved in Folio that Apollonius was a naughty knave, or had presented you with two or three of the worst principles transcrib’d out of the peremptory and ill-natur’d (though prettily ingenious) Doctor of Malmsbury undigested and ill-manag’d by a silly, saucy, ignorant, impertinent, ill educated Chaplain I were then indeed sufficiently in fault; but having inscrib’d Comedy on the beginning of my Book, you may guess pretty near what penny-worths you are like to have, and ware your money and your time accordingly. I would not yet be understood to lessen the dignity of Playes, for surely they deserve a place among the middle if not the better sort of Books; for I have heard the most of that which bears the name of Learning, and which has abused such quantities of Ink and Paper, and continually employs so many ignorant, unhappy souls for ten, twelve, twenty years in the University (who yet poor wretches think they are doing something all the while) as Logick etc. and several other things (that shall be nameless lest I misspell them) are much more absolutely nothing than the errantest Play that e’er was writ. Take notice, Reader, I do not assert this purely upon my own knowledge, but I think I have known it very fully prov’d, both sides being fairly heard, and even some ingenious opposers of it most abominably baffl’d in the Argument: Some of which I have got so perfectly by rote, that if this were a proper place for it, I am apt to think myself could almost make it clear; and as I would not undervalue Poetry, so neither am I altogether of their judgement who believe no wisdom in the world beyond it. I have often heard indeed 222 (and read) how much the World was anciently oblig’d to it for most of that which they call’d Science, which my want of letters makes me less assured of than others happily may be: but I have heard some wise men say that no considerable part of useful knowledge was this way communicated, and on the other way, that it hath serv’d to propogate so many idle superstitions, as all the benefits it hath or can be guilty of, can never make sufficient amends for; which unaided by the unlucky charms of Poetry, could never have possest a thinking Creature such as man. However true this is, I am myself well able to affirm that none of all our English Poets, and least the Dramatique (so I think you call them) can be justly charg’d with too great reformation of men’s minds or manners, and for that I may appeal to general experiment, if those who are the most assiduous Disciples of the Stage, do not make the fondest and the lewdest Crew about this Town; for if you should unhappily converse them through the year, you will not find one Dram of sense amongst a Club of them, unless you will allow for such a little Link-Boy’s Ribaldry thick larded with unseasonable oaths & impudent defiance of God, and all things serious; and that at such a senseless damn’d unthinking rate, as, if ’twere well distributed, would spoil near half the Apothecaries trade, and save the sober people of the Town the charge of Vomits; And it was smartly said (how prudently I cannot tell) by a late learned Doctor, who, though himself no great asserter of a Deity, (as you’ll believe by that which follows) yet was observed to be continually persuading of this sort of men (if I for once may call them so) of the necessity and truth of our Religion; and being ask’d how he came to bestir himself so much this way, made answer that it was because their ignorance and indiscreet debauch made them a scandal to the profession of Atheism. And for their wisdom and design I never knew it reach beyond the invention of some notable expedient, for the speedier ridding them of their Estate, (a devilish clog to Wit and Parts), than other grouling Mortals know, or battering half-a-dozen fair new Windows in a Morning after their debauch, whilst the dull unjantee Rascal they belong to is fast asleep. But I’ll proceed no farther in their character, because that miracle of Wit (in spite of Academick frippery) the mighty Echard hath already done it to my satisfaction; and whoever undertakes a Supplement to anything he hath discourst, had better for their reputation be doing nothing.

Besides this Theam is worn too thread-bare by the whiffling would-be Wits of the Town, and of both the stone-blind-eyes of the Kingdom. And therefore to return to that which I before was speaking of, I will have leave to say that in my judgement the increasing number of our latter Plays have not done much more towards the amending of men’s Morals, or their Wit, than hath the frequent Preaching, which this last age hath been pester’d with, (indeed without all Controversie they have done less harm) nor can I 223 once imagine what temptation anyone can have to expect it from them; for sure I am no Play was ever writ with that design. If you consider Tragedy, you’ll find their best of Characters unlikely patterns for a wise man to pursue: For he that is the Knight of the Play, no sublunary feats must serve his Dulcinea; for if he can’t bestrid the Moon, he’ll ne’er make good his business to the end, and if he chance to be offended, he must without considering right or wrong confound all things he meets, and put you half-a-score likely tall fellows into each pocket; and truly if he come not something near this Pitch I think the Tragedy’s not worth a farthing; for Playes were certainly intended for the exercising of men’s passions not their understandings, and he is infinitely far from wise that will bestow one moment’s meditation on such things: And as for Comedie, the finest folks you meet with there are still unfitter for your imitation, for though within a leaf or two of the Prologue, you are told that they are people of Wit, good Humour, good Manners, and all that: yet if the Authors did not kindly add their proper names, you’d never know them by their Characters; for whatsoe’er’s the matter, it hath happen’d so spightfully in several Playes, which have been prettie well received of late, that even those persons that were meant to be the ingenious Censors of the Play, have either prov’d the most debauch’d, or most unwittie people in the Company: nor is this error very lamentable, since as I take it Comedie was never meant, either for a converting or a conforming Ordinance: In short, I think a Play the best divertisement that wise men have: but I do also think them nothing so who do discourse as formallie about the rules of it, as if ’twere the grand affair of humane life. This being my opinion of Plays, I studied only to make this as entertaining as I could, which whether I have been successful in, my gentle Reader, you may for your shilling judge. To tell you my thoughts of it, were to little purpose, for were they very ill, you may be sure I would not have expos’d it; nor did I so till I had first consulted most of those who have a reputation for judgement of this kind; who were at least so civil (if not kind) to it as did encourage me to venture it upon the Stage, and in the Press: Nor did I take their single word for it, but us’d their reasons as a confirmation of my own.

Indeed that day ’twas Acted first, there comes me into the Pit, a long, lither, phlegmatick, white, ill-favour’d, wretched Fop, an Officer in Masquerade newly transported with a Scarf & Feather out of France, a sorry Animal that has nought else to shield it from the uttermost contempt of all mankind, but that respect which we afford to Rats and Toads, which though we do not well allow to live, yet when considered as a part of God’s Creation, we make honourable mention of them. A thing, Reader—but no more of such a Smelt: This thing, I tell ye, opening that which serves it for a mouth, out issued such a noise as this to those that sate about it, that 224 they were to expect a woful Play, God damn him, for it was a woman’s. Now how this came about I am not sure, but I suppose he brought it piping hot from some who had with him the reputation of a villanous Wit: for Creatures of his size of sense talk without all imagination, such scraps as they pick up from other folks. I would not for a world be taken arguing with such a propertie as this; but if I thought there were a man of any tolerable parts, who could upon mature deliberation distinguish well his right hand from his left, and justly state the difference between the number of sixteen and two, yet had this prejudice upon him; I would take a little pains to make him know how much he errs. For waving the examination why women having equal education with men, were not as capable of knowledge, of whatsoever sort as well as they: I’ll only say as I have touch’d before, that Plays have no great room for that which is men’s great advantage over women, that is Learning; We all well know that the immortal Shakespeare’s Plays (who was not guilty of much more of this than often falls to women’s share) have better pleas’d the World than Johnson’s works, though by the way ’tis said that Benjamin was no such Rabbi neither, for I am inform’d that his Learning was but Grammar high; (sufficient indeed to rob poor Salust of his best orations) and it hath been observ’d that they are apt to admire him most confoundedly, who have just such a scantling of it as he had; and I have seen a man the most severe of Johnson’s Sect, sit with his Hat remov’d less than a hair’s breadth from one sullen posture for almost three hours at The Alchymist; who at that excellent Play of Harry the Fourth (which yet I hope is far enough from Farce) hath very hardly kept his Doublet whole; but affectation hath always had a greater share both in the action and discourse of men than truth and judgement have; and for our Modern ones, except our most unimitable Laureat, I dare to say I know of none that write at such a formidable rate, but that a woman may well hope to reach their greatest heights. Then for their musty rules of Unity, and God knows what besides, if they meant anything, they are enough intelligible and as practible by a woman; but really methinks they that disturb their heads with any other rule of Playes besides the making them pleasant, and avoiding of scurrility, might much better be employed in studying how to improve men’s too imperfect knowledge of that ancient English Game which hight long Laurence: And if Comedy should be the picture of ridiculous mankind I wonder anyone should think it such a sturdy task, whilst we are furnish’d with such precious Originals as him I lately told you of; if at least that Character do not dwindle into Farce, and so become too mean an entertainment for those persons who are us’d to think. Reader, I have a complaint or two to make to you and I have done; Know then that this Play was hugely injur’d in the Acting, for ’twas done so imperfectly as never any was 225 before, which did more harm to this than it could have done to any of another sort; the Plot being busie (though I think not intricate) and so requiring a continual attention, which being interrupted by the intolerable negligence of some that acted in it, must needs much spoil the beauty on’t. My Dutch Lover spoke but little of what I intended for him, but supplied it with a great deal of idle stuff, which I was wholly unacquainted with until I had heard it first from him; so that Jack-pudding ever us’d to do: which though I knew before, I gave him yet the Part, because I knew him so acceptable to most o’th’ lighter Periwigs about the Town, and he indeed did vex me so, I could almost be angry: Yet, but Reader, you remember, I suppose, a fusty piece of Latine that has past from hand to hand this thousand years they say (and how much longer I can’t tell) in favour of the dead. I intended him a habit much more notably ridiculous, which if ever it be important was so here, for many of the Scenes in the three last Acts depended upon the mistakes of the Colonel for Haunce, which the ill-favour’d likeness of their Habits is suppos’d to cause. Lastly my Epilogue was promis’d me by a Person who had surely made it good, if any, but he failing of his word, deput’d one, who has made it as you see, and to make out your penyworth you have it here. The Prologue is by misfortune lost. Now, Reader, I have eas’d my mind of all I had to say, and so sans farther complyment, Adieu.

ACT I.

Scene I. A Street.

Enter Alonzo and Lovis in travelling Habits, attended by Pedro and Gload.

Lo. Dear Alonzo! I shall love a Church the better this Month for giving me a sight of thee, whom I so little expected in this part of the World, and less in so sanctifi’d a Place. What Affair could be powerful enough to draw thee from the kind obliging Ladies of Brabant?

Alon. First the sudden Orders of my Prince Don John, and next a fair Lady.

Lo. A Lady! Can any of this Country relish with a Man that has been us’d to the Freedom of those of Bruxels, from whence I suppose you are now arriv’d?

Alon. This morning I landed, from such a Storm, as set us all to making Vows of Conversion, (upon good Conditions) and that indeed brought me to Church.

Lo. In that very Storm I landed too, but with less Sense of Danger than you, being diverted with a pleasant Fellow that came along with me, and who is design’d to marry a Sister of mine against my Will—And now I think of him, Gload, where hast thou left this Master of thine?

Glo. At the Inn, Sir, in as lamentable a Pickle, as if he were still in the Storm; recruiting his emptyed Stomach with Brandy, and railing against all Women-kind for your Sister’s sake, who has made him undertake this Voyage.

Lo. Well, I’ll come to him, go home before. [Ex. Gload.

Alon. Prithee what thing is this?

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Lo. Why, ’tis the Cashier to this Squire I spoke of, a Man of Business, and as wise as his Master, but the graver Coxcomb of the two. But this Lady, Alonzo, who is this Lady thou speak’st of? shall not I know her? We were wont to divide the Spoils of Beauty, as well as those of War between us.

Alon. O but this is no such Prize, thou wouldst hardly share this with the Danger, there’s Matrimony in the Case.

Lo. Nay, then keep her to thy self, only let me know who ’tis that can debauch thee to that scandalous way of Life; is she fair? will she recompense the Folly?

Alon. Faith, I know not, I never saw her yet, but ’tis the Sister of Marcel, whom we both knew last Summer in Flanders, and where he and I contracted such a Friendship, that without other Consideration he promis’d me Hippolyta, for that’s his Sister’s Name.

Lo. But wo’t thou really marry her?

Alon. I consider my Advantage in being allied to so considerable a Man as Ambrosio, her Father; I being now so unhappy as not to know my Birth or Parents.

Lo. I have often heard of some such thing, but durst not ask the Truth of it.

Alon. ’Tis so, all that I know of my self is, that a Spanish Souldier, who brought me up in the Army, dying, confest I was not his Son, (which till then I believ’d) and at the Age of twelve left me to shift for my self: the Fortune he inrich’d me with, was his Horse and Arms, with a few Documents how to use them, as I had seen him do with good success: This Servant, [Points to Pedro] and a Crucifix of Value. And from one Degree to another, I arriv’d to what you knew me, Colonel of the Prince’s Regiment, and the Glory of his Favour.

Lo. Honour is the Child of Virtue, and finds an Owner every where.

Alon. Oh, Sir, you are a Courtier, and have much the odds of a Souldier in Parleys of this nature: but hither I am come—

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Lo. To be undone—Faith, thou look’st ill upon’t.

Alon. I confess I am not altogether so brisk as I should have been upon another Occasion; you know, Lovis, I have been us’d to Christian Liberty, and hate this formal Courtship. Pox on’t, wou’d ’twere over.

Lo. Where all Parties are agreed, there’s little need of that; and the Ladies of Spain, whatever Gravity they assume, are as ready as any you ever met withal.

Alon. But there’s a damn’d Custom that does not at all agree with Men so frank and gay as thou and I; there’s a deal of Danger in the Atchievement, which some say heightens the Pleasure, but I am of another Opinion.

Ped. Sir, there is a Female in a Veil has follow’d us ever since we came from Church.

Alon. Some amorous Adventure: See [Enter Olinda.] she advances: Prithee retire, there may be danger in it. [Puts Lovis back.

Lo. Oh then, I must by no means leave you. [Lovis advances.

Olin. Which of these two shall I chuse? [She looks on both.

Sir, you appear a Stranger. [To Lovis.

Alon. We are both so, Lady.

Olin. I shall spoil all, and bring [She looks again on both.] the wrong. Sir, you should be a Cavalier, that—

Alon. Would gladly obey your Orders.

Lo. Nay, I find ’tis all one to you which you chuse, so you have one of us: but would not both do better?

Olin. No, Sir, my Commission’s but to one.

Alon. Fix and proceed then, let me be the Man.

Olin. What shall I do? they are both well: [Aside.

but I’ll e’en chuse, as ’twere, for my self; and hang me if I know which that shall be, [looks on both.] Sir, there is a Lady of Quality and Beauty, who guessing you to be Men of Honour, has sent me to one of you.

Alon. Me, I am sure.

Lo. Me, me, he’s engag’d already.

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Alon. That’s foul Play, Lovis.

Alon. Well, I must have but one, and therefore I’ll wink and chuse.

Lo. I’ll not trust blind Fortune.

Alon. Prithee, Lovis, let thee and I agree upon the matter, and I find the Lady will be reasonable; cross or pile who shall go.

Lo. Go, Sir, whither?

Alon. To the Lady that—

Lo. Sent for neither of us that I can hear of yet.

Alon. You will not hear me out, but I’ll end the Difference by chusing you, Sir; and if you’ll follow me [To Alonzo.] at a Distance, I will conduct you where this Lady is.

Alon. Fair Guide, march on, I’ll follow thee. [Offers to go.

Lo. You are not mad, Sir, ’tis some abuse, and dangerous. [Pulls him back.

Alon. Be not envious of my Happiness: Forbear a Wench, for fear of Danger!

Lo. Have a care, ’tis some Plot. [Holds him.] Where did this Lady see us? we are both Strangers in the City.

Alon. No matter where.

Olin. At Church, Sir, just now.

Alon. Ay, ay, at Church, at Church, enough.

Lo. What’s her Name?

Alon. Away, thou art fuller of Questions than a Fortune-teller: Come, let’s be gone.

Lo. Sure you do not mean to keep your Word, Sir?

Alon. Not keep my Word, Lovis? What wicked Life hast thou known me lead, should make thee suspect I should not? When I have made an Interest in her, and find her worth communicating, I will be just upon Honour—Go, go.

Lo. Well, go your ways; if Marriage do not tame you, you are past all Hopes: but pray, Sir, let me see you at my Lodgings, the Golden Fleece here at the Gate.

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Alon. I’ll attend thee here, and tell thee my Adventure: Farewel. [Exit Lovis.] Pedro, go you and inquire for the House of Don Ambrosio, and tell him I will wait on him in the Evening, by that time I shall get my self in Order.

[Ex. Alonzo and Olinda; Pedro the other way.

Scene II. Ambrosio’s House.

Enter Silvio, melancholy.

Enter Francisca.

Franc. What, still with folded Arms and down-cast looks?

Franc. Ay, Sir, but she will never make the kindest Mistress.

Franc. I know of one, nor other Remedy for you than loving less.

Franc. That methinks you might do even in the Presence of Marcel. A Brother is allow’d to love a Sister.

Franc. Why, quarrel with him, Sir: you know you are so much dearer to my Lord your Father than he is, that should he perceive a Difference between ye, he would soon dismiss him the House; and ’twere but Reason, Sir, for I am sure Don Marcel loves you not.

Silv. That I excuse, since he the lawful Heir to all my Father’s Fortunes, sees it every Day ready to be sacrific’d to me, who can pretend no Title to’t, but the unaccountable Love my Father bears me.

Franc. Can you dissemble, Sir?

Silv. The worst of any Man, but would endeavour it, If it could any ways advance my Love.

Franc. Which I must find some way to ruin. [Aside.

Then court his Mistress.

Silv. The rich Flavia?

Franc. That would not incense him, for her he is to marry; But ’tis the fair Clarinda has his Heart.

Franc. Stay, Sir, here comes Marcel. I’ll leave you.

[Exit Francisca.

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Enter Marcel, with a Letter open in his Hand, which he kisses.

Silv. What’s all this?

Silv. What Victory? or what Heart?

Mar. Read here, and change thy Wonder, when thou knowst
How happy Man can be. [Gives him a Letter.

[Silvio reads.

Marcel,

Dormida will have me tell you what Effects your Vows have made, and how easily they have drawn from me a Consent to see you, as you desir’d, this Night in my Chamber: you have 234 sworn to marry me, and Love will have me credit you, and then methinks I ought not to deny you any thing, nor question your Virtue. Dormida will wait to throw you down the Key, when all are in Bed, that will conduct you to Your Clarinda.

Mar. How now, Brother! what, displeased with it? [Takes the Letter.

Enter a Boy.

Boy. Sir, there’s without a Servant of Don Alonzo’s, who says his Master will be here to Night. [Marcel is surprized.

Silv. Stay, Marcel,
I can inform you where these Lovers are.

Mar. A Bordello; forwards pray.

Silv. Yes, at the Corner of St. Jerom’s; where after seeing many Faces which pleas’d me not, I would have took my leave; but the Matron of the House, a kind obliging Lady, seeing me so nice, and of Quality, (tho disguis’d) told me she had a Beauty, such an one as had Count d’ Olivarez in his height of Power seen, he would have purchas’d at any rate. I grew impatient to see this fine thing, and promis’d largely: then leading me into a Room as gay, and as perfum’d as an Altar upon a Holy-day, I saw seated upon a Couch of State—

Mar. Hippolyta!

Mar. Well, Sir, what follow’d?

Mar. How! left them? and left them living too?

Silv. If a young Wench will be gadding,
Who can help it?

Mar. ’Sdeath you should, were you that half her Brother, 236 Which my Father too doatingly believes you. [Inrag’d.

Silv. How! do you question his Belief, Marcel?

Mar. I ne’er consider’d it; be gone and leave me.

Silv. Marcel, thou ly’st. [Strikes him.

Mar. Tho ’twere no point of Valour, but of Rashness
To fight thee, yet I’ll do’t.

Silv. By Heaven, I will not put this Injury up.

[They fight, Silvio is wounded.

[Fight again. Enter Ambrosio, and Cleonte between; Silvio falls into the Arms of Cleonte.

Amb. Hold! I command you hold;
Ah, Traitor to my Blood, what hast thou done?

[To Marcel, who kneels and lays his Sword at his Feet.

Mar. Pray hear me, Sir, before you do condemn me.

Mar. I did foresee my Fate, but could not shun it.

[Takes his Sword and goes out.

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Amb. What ho! Biscay, a Surgeon; on your Lives a Surgeon; where be the Rascals? [Goes out.

Cleo. But I shall die with looking on your Wounds.

Silv. And I shall die unless you cure them, Sister.

Silv. I thank you, pretty Innocence. [Leads him in.

Scene III. A Grove.

Discovers Euphemia veil’d, walking alone.

Euph. Olinda stays long; I hope she has overtook the Cavalier. Lord, how I am concern’d; if this should be Love now, I were in fine condition, at least if he be married, or a Lover: Oh that I fear: hang me, if it has not disorder’d me all over. But see, where she comes with him too.

Enter Olinda and Alonzo.

Olin. Here he is, Madam, I hope ’tis the right Man.

Alon. Madam, you see what haste I make to obey your kind Commands.

Euph. ’Twas as kindly done, Sir; but I fear when you know to what end ’tis, you’ll repent your Haste.

Alon. ’Tis very likely; but if I do, you are not the first of your Sex that has put me to Repentance: But lift up your Veil, and if your Face be good— [Offers to lift up her Veil.

Euph. Stay, you’re too hasty.

Alon. Nay, let’s have fair Play on both sides, I’ll hide nothing from you. [Offers again.

Euph. I have a Question or two to ask you first.

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Alon. I can promise nothing till I see my Reward. I am a base Barterer, here’s one for t’other; you saw your Man and lik’d him, and if I like you when I see you— [Offers again.

Euph. But if you do not, must all my liking be castaway?

Alon. As for that, trust to my good Nature; a frank Wench has hitherto taken me as much as Beauty. And one Proof you have already given of that, in this kind Invitation: come, come, do not lose my little new-gotten good Opinion of thee, by being coy and peevish. [Offers again.

Euph. You’re strangely impatient, Sir.

Alon. O you should like me the better for that, ’tis a sign of Youth and Fire.

Euph. But, Sir, before I let you see my Face—

Alon. I hope I must not promise you to like it.

Euph. No, that were too unreasonable, but I must know whether you are a Lover.

Alon. What an idle Question’s that to a brisk young Fellow? A Lover! yes, and that as often as I see a new Face.

Euph. That I’ll allow.

Alon. That’s kindly said; and now do I find I shall be in love with thine as soon as I see’t, for I am half so with thy Humour already.

Euph. Are you not married, Sir?

Alon. Married!

Euph. Now I dread his Answer. [Aside.] Yes, married.

Alon. Why, I hope you make no Scruple of Conscience, to be kind to a married Man.

Euph. Now do I find, you hope I am a Curtezan that come to bargain for a Night or two; but if I possess you, it must be for ever.

Alon. For ever let it be then. Come, let’s begin on any Terms.

Euph. I cannot blame you, Sir, for this mistake, since what I’ve rashly done, has given you cause to think I am not virtuous.

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Alon. Faith, Madam, Man is a strange ungovern’d thing; yet I in the whole course of my Life have taken the best care I could, to make as few Mistakes as possible: and treating all Women-kind alike, we seldom err; for where we find one as you profess to be, we happily light on a hundred of the sociable and reasonable sort.

Euph. But sure you are so much a Gentleman, that you may be convinc’d?

Alon. Faith, if I be mistaken, I cannot devise what other use you can make of me.

Euph. In short this; I must leave you instantly; and will only tell you I am the sole Daughter of a rich Parent, young, and as I am told not unhandsom; I am contracted to a Man I never saw, nor I am sure shall not like when I do see, he having more Vice and Folly than his Fortune will excuse, tho a great one; and I had rather die than marry him.

Alon. I understand you, and you would have me dispatch this Man.

Euph. I am not yet so wicked. The Church is the only place I am allowed to go to, and till now could never see the Man that was perfectly agreeable to me: Thus veil’d, I’ll venture to tell you so.

Alon. What the Devil will this come to? her Mien and Shape are strangely graceful, and her Discourse is free and natural. What a damn’d Defeat is this, that she should be honest now! [Aside.

Euph. Well, Sir, what Answer? I see he is uneasy.[Aside.

Alon. Why, as I was saying, Madam, I am a Stranger.

Euph. I like you the better for that.

Alon. But, Madam, I am a Man unknown, unown’d in the World; and much unworthy the Honour you do me—Would I were well rid of her, and yet I find a damnable Inclination to stay too. [Aside.

Will nothing but Matrimony serve your turn, Madam? Pray use a young Lover as kindly as you can.

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Euph. Nothing but that will do, and that must be done.

Alon. Must! ’slife this is the first of her Sex that ever was before-hand with me, and yet that I should be forc’d to deny her too. [Aside.

Euph. I fear his Answer, Olinda. [Aside.

Olin. At least ’tis but making a Discovery of your Beauty, and then you have him sure.

Alon. Madam, ’tis a matter of Moment, and requires Deliberation; besides I have made a kind of Promise—

Euph. Never to marry?

Alon. No, faith, ’tis not so well: But since now I find we are both in haste, I am to be marry’d.

[She leans on Olinda, as if she swooned, who pulls off her Veil: he stands gazing at a Distance.

Olin. Sure she does but counterfeit, and now I’ll play my Part. Madam, Madam!

Alon. What wondrous thing is that! I should not look upon’t, it changes Nature in me.

Olin. Have you no pity, Sir? Come nearer pray.

Alon. Sure there’s Witchcraft in that Face, it never could have seiz’d me thus else, I have lov’d a thousand times, yet never felt such joyful Pains before.

Olin. She does it rarely. What mean you, Sir?

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Olin. Come nearer, Sir, you’ll do a Lady no good at that Distance. Speak to her, Sir. [He rises and comes to her, gazing still.

Euph. Sure he is real. [Aside.

Alas! I am discover’d; how came my Veil off? [She pretends to recover, and wonder that her Veil is off.

Euph. May I believe all this? for that we easily do in things we wish.

Euph. O wondrous Reformation! marry me! [Laughs.

Alon. How, do you mock my Grief?

Euph. What a strange dissembling thing is Man! To put me off too, you were to be married.

Alon. Hah, I had forgotten Hippolyta. [He starts.

Euph. See, Olinda, the Miracle increases, he can be serious too. How do you, Sir?

Euph. And to what purpose was it now?

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Euph. How fell that out, Sir?

Euph. What means he? I fear he is in earnest. [Aside.

Olin. ’Tis nothing but his Aversion to Marriage, which most young Men dread now-a-days.

Euph. I must have this Stranger, or I must die; for whatever Face I put upon’t, I am far gone in Love, but I must hide it. [Aside.

Well, since I have mist my Aim, you shall never boast my Death; I’ll cast my self away upon the next handsom young Fellow I meet, tho I die for’t; and so farewel to you, loving Sir. [Offers to go.

Alon. Stay, do not marry, as you esteem the Life of him that shall possess you.

Euph. Sure you will not kill him.

Alon. By Heaven, I will.

Euph. O I’ll trust you, Sir: Farewel, farewel.

Euph. Well, since you are so resolv’d (and so in love) I’ll give you leave to see me once more at a House at the Corner of St. Jerom’s, where this Maid shall give you Entrance.

Alon. Why, that’s generously said.

Euph. As soon ’tis dark you may venture.

ACT II.

Scene I. The Street.

Enter Marcel in a Cloak alone.

[Enter Alonzo drest, with Lovis. Marcel stays.

Alon. But to be thus in love, is’t not a Wonder, Lovis?

Lov. No, Sir, it had been much a greater, if you had stay’d a Night in Town without being so; and I shall see this Wonder as often as you see a new Face of a pretty Woman.

Alon. I do not say that I shall lose all Passion for the fair Sex hereafter; but on my Conscience, this amiable Stranger has given me a deeper Wound than ever I received from any before.

Lov. Well, you remember the Bargain.

Alon. What Bargain?

Lov. To communicate; you understand.

Alon. There’s the Devil on’t, she is not such a Prize: Oh, were she not honest, Friend! [Hugs him.

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Lov. Is it so to do? What, you pretend to be a Lover, and she honest, now only to deprive me of my Part: remember this, Alonzo.

Mar. Did not I hear Alonzo nam’d? [Aside.

Lov. Hey day! What Stuff’s here? Nay, now I see thou art quite gone indeed.

Lov. You cannot marry her.

Alon. I would not willingly, tho I think I’m free: For Pedro went to Marcel to tell him I was arriv’d, and would wait on him; but was treated more like a Spy, than a Messenger of Love: They sent no Answer back, which I tell you, Lovis, angers me: ’twas not the Entertainment I expected from my brave Friend Marcel. But now I am for the fair Stranger who by this expects me.

Mar. ’Tis Alonzo. O how he animates my Rage, and turns me over to Revenge, upon Hippolyta and her false Lover! [Aside.

Lov. Who’s this that walks before us? [They go out.

Alon. No matter who.

Mar. I am follow’d. [They enter again.

Lov. See, he stops. [Marcel looks back.

Alon. Let him do what he please, we will out-go him. [They go out.

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Lov. This Man whoe’er he be still follows us.

Alon. I care not, nothing shall hinder my Design, I’ll go tho I make my passage thro his Heart. [They enter at another Door, he follows.

Lov. See, he advances, pray stand by a little. [They stand by.

Enter Olinda with a Light.

Olin. O, Sir, are you come? my Lady grew impatient. [They go in.

Mar. She takes me for some other: This is happy. [Aside.

Alon. Gods! is not that the Maid that first conducted me to the fair thing that rob’d me of my Heart?

Lov. I think it is.

Alon. She gives admittance to another Man.
All Women-kind are false, I’ll in and tell her so. [Offers to go.

Lov. You are too rash, ’tis dangerous.

Alan. I do despise thy Counsel, let me go.

Lov. If you are resolv’d, I’ll run the Hazard with you. [They both go in.

Scene II. The Scene changes to a Chamber.

Enter from one side Olinda, lighting in Marcel muffled as before in his Cloke, from the other Antonio leading in Euphemia veil’d.

Mar. By Heaven’s, ’tis she: Vile Strumpet! [Throws off his Cloke, and snatches her from him.

Euph. Alas, this is not he whom I expected.

Anto. Marcel! I had rather have encounter’d my evil Angel than thee. [Draws.

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Mar. I do believe thee, base ungenerous Coward. [Draws.

[They fight, Marcel disarms Antonio, by wounding his Hand. Enter Alonzo, goes betwixt them, and with his Sword drawn opposes Marcel, who is going to kill Antonio; Lovis follows him.

Alon. Take Courage, Sir. [To Antonio, who goes out mad.

Alon. ’Tis this way you must make your Passage then.

Alon. ’Tis Marcel! What can this mean? [Aside.

Dost not thou know me, Friend? look on me well.

Euph. What can he mean? I dare not shew my Face. [Aside.

Euph. Hold, noble Stranger, hold.

Mar. Have you such Pity on your Lover there? [Offers to kill her, Alonzo stays him.

Euph. Help, help. [Her Veil falls off.

Enter Hippolyta drest like a Curtezan: Sees Marcel.

Alon. How! are you a Stranger to her?

Mar. Yes I am. Have you forgiven me, Madam?

Euph. Sir, I have. [Marcel bows and offers to go out.

Alon. Stay, Friend, and let me know your Quarrel.

Mar. Not for the World, Alonzo.

Alon. This is unfriendly, Sir.

Alon. What can the meaning of this be?

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Euph. Oh do not ask, but let us quickly leave this dangerous Place.

Alon. Does it not belong to you?

Euph. No, but you would like me the better if it did: for, Sir, it is a—

Alon. Upon my Life, a Baudy-house.

Euph. So they call it.

Alon. You do amaze me.

Euph. Truth is, not daring to trust my Friends or Relations with a Secret that so nearly concern’d me as the meeting you, and hearing of a new come Curtezan living in this House, I sent her word I would make her a Visit, knowing she would gladly receive it from a Maid of my Quality: When I came, I told her my Business, and very frankly she offer’d me her House and Service—Perhaps you’ll like me the worse for this bold Venture, but when you consider my promis’d Husband is every day expected, you will think it but just to secure my self any way.

Alon. You could not give me a greater Proof than this of what you say you bless me with, your Love.

Euph. I will not question but you are in earnest; at least if any doubt remain, these will resolve it. [Gives him Letters.

Alon. What are these, Madam?

Euph. Letters, Sir, intercepted from the Father of my design’d Husband out of Flanders to mine.

Alon. What use can I make of them?

Euph. Only this: Put your self into an Equipage very ridiculous, and pretend you are my foolish Lover arriv’d from Flanders, call your self Haunce van Ezel, and give my Father these, as for the rest I’ll trust your Wit.

Alon. What shall I say or do now? [Aside.

Alon. Two great Evils! if I had but the Grace to chuse the least now, that is, lose her. [Aside.

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Euph. I’ll give you but to night to consider it.

Alon. Short warning this: but I am damnably in love, and cannot withstand Temptation. [Kisses her Hand.

Euph. I had forgot to tell you my Name’s Euphemia, my Father’s you’ll find on the Letters, and pray show your Love in your haste. Farewel.

Alon. Stay, fair Euphemia, and let me pay my Thanks, and tell you that I must obey you.

Alon. That’s bravely said, nor will I ask one Question about you, not only to return the Bounty, but to avoid all things that look like the Approaches to a married Life. If Fortune will put us together, let her e’en provide for us.

Euph. I must be gone: Farewel, and pray make haste. [Looks kindly on him.

Alon. There’s no resisting those Looks, Euphemia: One more to fortify me well; for I shall have need of every Aid in this Case. [Look at one another and go.

Scene III. A Street.

Enter Antonio in haste with Hippolyta; weeping as passing over the Stage.

Ant. Come, let us haste, I fear we are pursu’d.

Hip. Ah, whither shall we fly?

Ant. We are near the Gate, and must secure our selves with the Darkness of the Night in St. Peter’s Grove, we dare not venture into any House. [Exeunt.

Enter Clarinda and Dormida above in the Balcony.

Clar. Can’st thou not see him yet?

Dorm. Good lack a-day, what an impatient thing is a young Girl in love!

Clar. Nay, good Dormida, let not want of Sleep make thee testy.

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Dorm. In good time—are you my Governess, or I yours, that you are giving me Instructions? Go get you in, or I shall lay down my Office.

Clar. Nay, wait a little longer, I’m sure he will come.

Dorm. You sure! you have wondrous Skill indeed in the Humours of Men: how came you to be so well acquainted with them? you scarce ever saw any but Don Marcel, and him too but thro a Grate or Window, or at Church; and yet you are sure. I am a little the elder of the two, and have manag’d as many Intrigues of this kind as any Woman, and never found a constant just Man, as they say, of a thousand; and yet you are sure.

Clar. Why, is it possible Marcel should be false?

Dorm. Marcel! No, no, Sweet-heart, he is that Man of a thousand.

Clar. But if he should, you have undone me, by telling me so many pretty things of him.

Dorm. Still you question my Ability, which by no means I can indure; get you in I say.

Clar. Do not speak so loud, you will wake my Mother.

Dorm. At your Instructions again; do you question my Conduct and Management of this Affair? Go watch for him your self: I’ll have no more to do with you back nor edge. [Offers to go.

Clar. Will you be so barbarous to leave me to my self, after having made it your Business this three Months to sollicit a Heart which was but too ready to yield before; after having sworn to me how honourable all his Intents were; nay, made me write to him to come to night? And now when I have done this, and am all trembling with fear and shame (and yet an infinite Desire to see him too) [Sighs] thou wilt abandon me: go, when such as you oblige, ’tis but to be insolent with the more freedom.

Dorm. What, you are angry I’ll warrant. [Smiles.

Clar. I will punish my self to pay thee back, and will not see Marcel.

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Dorm. What a pettish Fool is a Maid in love at fifteen! how unmanageable! But I’ll forgive all—go get you in, I’ll watch for your Lover; I would not have you disoblige a Man of his Pretensions and Quality for all the World. [Clarinda goes in.

Enter Alonzo below.

Alon. Now do I want Lovis extremely, to consult with him about this Business: For I am afraid the Devil, or Love, or both are so great with me, that I must marry this fair Inchantress, which is very unlucky; but, since Ambrosio and Marcel refuse to see me, I hold my self no longer ingag’d in Honour to Hippolyta.

Dorm. [above.] Whist, whist, Sir, Sir.

Alon. Who’s there?

Dorm. ’Tis I, your Servant, Sir; oh you are a fine Spark, are you not, to make so fair a Creature wait so long for you? there, there’s the Key, open the Door softly and come in. [Throws him down a Key in a Handkerchief.

Alon. What’s this? But I’ll ask no Questions, so fair a Creature, said she? Now if ’twere to save my Life cannot I forbear, I must go in: Shou’d Euphemia know this, she would call it Levity and Inconstancy; but I plead Necessity, and will be judg’d by the amorous Men, and not the jealous Women: For certain this Lady, whoe’er she be, designs me a more speedy Favour than I can hope from Euphemia, and on easier Terms too. This is the Door that must conduct to the languishing Venus. [Opens the Door and goes in, leaving it unshut.

Enter Marcel with his Sword drawn.

None appears yet: Dormida was to throw me down the Key. The Door is open, left so to give me entrance. [Goes to the Door.

Scene IV. Changes to a dark Hall.

Discovers Alonzo groping about in the Hall.

Alon. Now am I in a worse Condition than before, can neither advance nor retreat: I do not like this groping alone in the Dark thus. Whereabouts am I? I dare not call: were this fair thing she spoke of but now half so impatient as I, she would bring a Light, and conduct me.

Enter Marcel.

Mar. ’Tis wondrous dark.

Alon. Hah, a Man’s Voice that way; that’s not so well: it may be some Lover, Husband, or Brother; none of which are to be trusted in this Case, therefore I’ll stand upon my Guard. [Draws: Marcel coming towards him jostles him.

Mar. Who’s there?

Alon. A Man.

Mar. A Man! none such inhabit here. [Draws.

Thy Business?

Alon. This shall answer you, since there’s no other way.

[They fight, Alonzo wounds Marcel, who fights him to the Door; Alonzo goes out, Marcel gropes to follow.

Mar. This is not just, ye Gods, to punish me, and let the Traytor ’scape unknown too: Methought ’twas Silvio’s Voice, or else a sudden thought of Jealousy come into my Head would make me think so.

Enter Clarinda and Dormida with Light.

Clar. I tell you I did hear the noise of fighting.

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Dorm. Why, between whom should it be? I’ll be sworn Marcel came in alone.

Clar. Marcel! and wounded too! oh I’m lost. [Sees him, weeps.

Mar. Keep your false Tears to bathe your Lover’s Wounds.
For I perhaps have given him some—Thou old Assistant to her Lust, whose greatest Sin is wishing, tell me who ’twas thou didst procure for her. [In rage to Dormida.

Dorm. Alas! I cannot imagine who it should be, unless Don Silvio, who has sometimes made Addresses to her: But oh the House is up, Madam, we are undone; let’s fly for Heavens sake.

Clar. Oh Marcel, can you believe— [A Noise.

Dorm. Come, come, I’ll not be undone for your Fiddle-faddles; I’ll lay it all on you, if I be taken. [Pulls out Clarinda.

Mar. Sot that I was, I could not guess at this to day, by his Anger at the Letter I foolishly shew’d him; he is my Rival, and ’tis with him she’s fled; and I’ll endeavour to pursue them. [Offers to go.

But oh my Strength complies with their Design, [Leaning on his Sword.] and shamefully retires to give them leave to play their amorous Game out. [Goes faintly out.

Scene V. Changes to the Street. Discovers Alonzo alone.

Enter Dormida and Clarinda.

Hah, Ladies from the same House! these are Birds that I have frighted from their Nests I am sure: I’ll proffer my Service to them.

Dorm. Why do not you make more haste?

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Alon. These must be some whom I have injur’d.
Ladies—you seem as in distress.

Dorm. Oh, Sir, as you are a Gentleman, assist a pair of Virgins.

Alon. What’s this, a mumping Matron? I hope the other’s young, or I have offer’d my Service to little purpose.

Alon. Madam, I will, but know not where to carry ye; my Lodging is in an Inn, and is neither safe nor honourable: but Fortune dares no less than protect the Fair, and I’ll venture my Life in your Protection and Service. [Exeunt.

Enter Marcel faintly.

Scene VI. Chamber of Cleonte.

She is discover’d in her Night-Gown, at a Table, as undressing, Francisca by her.

Cleo. Francisca, thou art dull to Night. [Sighs.

Fran. You will not give me leave to talk.

Cleo. Not thy way indeed, hast thou no Stories but of Love, and of my Brother Silvio?

Fran. None that you wish to hear: But I’ll do what you please, so you will not oblige me to sigh for you.

Cleo. Then prithee sing to me.

Fran. What Song, a merry, or a sad?

Cleo. Please thy own Humour, for then thou’lt sing best.

Fran. Well, Madam, I’ll obey you, and please my self.

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SINGS.

After the Song, enter Silvio all undrest, gazing wildly on Cleonte; his Arm ty’d up.

Cleo. My Brother Silvio, at this late hour, and in my Lodgings too! How do you, Sir? are you not well?

Cleo. Dear Brother— [Goes to him.

Silv. Ah, Cleonte— [Takes her by the Hand and gazes.

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Cleo. What would you, Sir?

Silv. I am not—well—

Cleo. Sleep, Sir, will give you ease.

Silv. I cannot sleep, my Wounds do rage and burn so, as they put me past all power of rest.

Cleo. We’ll call your Surgeon, Sir.

Silv. Let that slight hurt alone, and search this—here. [To his Heart.

Fran. Oh, he will tell her, that he loves her sure. [Aside.

Cleo. Sit down and let me see’t. [He sits down, she puts her Hand into his Bosom.

Fran. Oh foolish Innocence— [Aside.

Cleo. You have deceiv’d me, Brother, here’s no Wound.

Cleo. No, surely, Sir, my Hand is very gentle.

Cleo. Alas, what means my Brother?

Fran. I can endure no more— [Goes out.

Silv. Can you believe it Sin to love a Brother? it is not so in Nature.

Cleo. What wou’d you have me do?

Cleo. I must not hear this Language from a Brother. [She offers to go.

Enter Francisca.

Fran. By this she understands him, curse on her Innocence, ’Tis fuel to his flame— [Aside.] Madam, there is below a Lady, who desires to speak with the Mistress of the House.

Cleo. At this hour a Lady! who can it be?

Fran. I know not, but she seems of Quality.

Cleo. Is she alone?

Fran. Attended by a Gentleman and an old Woman.

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Cleo. Perhaps some one that needs a kind Assistance; my Father is in Bed, and I’ll venture to know their Business; bring her up.

Fran. ’Twere good you should retire, Sir. [To Silvio, and Exit.

Enter Francisca with Lights; follow’d by Alonzo, Clarinda, and Dormida: Alonzo gazes on Cleonte a while.

Cleo. Is’t me you would command?

Clar. I know not what to say, I am so disorder’d. [Aside.

Alon. What Troops of Beauties she has! sufficient to take whole Cities in—Madam, I beg— [Takes Clarinda by the Hand, and approaches Cleonte.

Cleo. What, Sir?

Alon. That you would receive into Protection—

Cleo. What pray, Sir?

Cleo. I rather think you mean this Lady, Sir. [Alonzo looks with wonder on Clarinda.

Cleo. But what are you, pray, Sir?

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Cleo. That’s sad indeed; but whoe’er you are, since you belong to this fair Maid, you’ll find a Welcome every where.

Cleo. What must I call your Sister, Sir, when I would pay my Duty?

Alon. There I am routed again with another hard Question. [Aside.

Clar. Madam, my Name’s Clarinda.

Alon. Madam, I’ll take my leave, and wish the Heart I leave with you to night, may persuade you to suffer my Visits to morrow, till when I shall do nothing but languish.

Cleo. I know not what loss you have suffer’d to night; but since your fair Sister’s Presence with us allows it, you need not doubt a welcome.

Alon. I humbly thank you, Madam. [Kisses her Hand, and looks amorously on Clarinda.

Fran. Madam, pray retire, for Don Marcel is come into the House all bloody, inrag’d against somebody.

Clar. I’m troubled at his Hurt, but cannot fear his Rage. Good night, Sir. [They go out.

Alon. They are gone; now had I as much mind to have kist the other’s Hand, but that ’twas not a Ceremony due to a Sister—What the Devil came into my Head, to say she was so? nothing but the natural itch of talking and lying: they are very fair; but what’s that to me? Euphemia surpasses both: But a Pox of her terms of Marriage, I’ll set that to her Beauty, and then these get the Day, as far as natural Necessity goes: But I’ll home and sleep upon’t, and yield to what’s most powerful in the Morning.

Scene VII. The Street.

Enter Alonzo, as out of the House, gazing upon it.

Alon. Sure I shall know this House again to morrow. [To him Lovis.

Lov. I wonder what should be become of Alonzo, I do do not like these Night-works of his— Who’s there?

Alon. Lovis!

Lov. Alonzo?

Alon. The same, where hast thou been?

Lov. In search of you this two Hours.

Alon. O, I have been taken up with new Adventures, since I saw thee; but prithee what became of thine? for methought it was a likely Woman.

Lov. Faith, Sir, I thought I had got a Prize; but a Pox on’t, when I came into the Street, e’er she had recover’d Breath to tell me who she was, the Cavalier you rescu’d from Marcel, laid claim to her; thank’d me for her Preservation, and vanisht. I hope you had better luck with your Female, whose Face I had not the good fortune to see.

Alon. Not so good as I could have wisht, for she stands still on her honourable terms.

Lov. Of Matrimony, ha, ha, a very Jilt, I’ll warrant her; Come, come, you shall see her no more.

Alon. Faith, I fear I must.

Lov. To what purpose?

Alon. To persuade her to Reason.

Lov. That you’ll soon do, when she finds you will not bite at t’other Bait.

Alon. The worst is, if I see her again, it must be at her Father’s House; and so transform’d from Man to Beast—I must appear like a ridiculous Lover she expects out of Flanders.

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Lov. A very Cheat, a trick to draw thee in: be wise in time.

Alon. No, on my Conscience she’s in earnest, she told me her Name, and his I am to represent.

Lov. What is’t, I pray?

Alon. Haunce van Ezel.

Lov. Hah! her Name too, I beseech you? [Impatiently.

Alon. Euphemia: And such a Creature ’tis—

Lov. ’Sdeath, my Sister all this while: This has call’d up all that’s Spaniard in me, and makes me raging mad. [Aside.] But do you love her, Sir?

Alon. Most desperately, beyond all Sense or Reason.

Lov. And could you be content to marry her?

Alon. Any thing but that —But thou know’st my ingagement elsewhere; and I have hopes that yet she’ll be wise, and yield on more pleasant terms.

Lov. I could be angry now; but ’twere unreasonable to blame him for this. [Aside.] Sir, I believe by your Treatment from Ambrosio and Marcel, you may come off there easily.

Alon. That will not satisfy my Honour, tho ’twill my Love; that I have not Hippolyta, I will owe to my own Inconstancy, not theirs: besides, this may be a Cheat, as you say.

Lov. But does Euphemia love you?

Alon. Faith, I think she has too much Wit to dissemble, and too much Beauty to need that Art.

Lov. Then you must marry her.

Alon. Not if I can avoid it.

Lov. I know this Lady, Sir, and know her to be worth your Love: I have it in my Power too, to serve you, if you proceed suddenly, which you must do, or lose her; for this Flandrian Boor your Rival is already arriv’d, and designs to morrow to make his first Address to Euphemia.

Alon. Oh, he must not, shall not see her.

Lov. How will you hinder him?

Alon. With this. [To his Sword.] Where is this Rival? 262 tell me: Conduct me to him strait; I find my Love above the common rate, and cannot brook this Rival.

Lov. So, this blows the flame—His Life will be no hindrance to you in this Affair, if you design to love on.

Alon. Do’st know him?

Lov. Yes, he is a pleasant Original for you to be copy’d by: It is the same Fop, I told you was to marry my Sister, and who came along with me to Madrid.

Alon. How! Euphemia thy Sister?

Lov. Yes, indeed is she, and whom my Father designs to cast away upon this half Man, half Fool; but I find she has Wit to make a better Choice: she yet knows nothing of my Arrival, and till you resolve what to do, shall not; and my Dutchman does nothing without me.

Alon. If thou hast the management of him, he’s likely to thrive.

Lov. But not in his Amour, if you please: In short, Sir, if you do really love my Sister, I am content to be so ungracious a Child to contribute to the cheating my Father of this same hopeful Son he expects, and put you upon him; but what you do, must be speedily then.

Alon. I am oblig’d to thee for this frank Offer, and will be instructed by thee.

Lov. If you’re resolv’d, I’ll warrant you Success.

Alon. I think I am resolv’d in spite of all my Inclinations to Libertinism.

Lov. Well, Sir, I’ll get you such a Suit then, as that our Hero makes his first approach in, as ridiculously gay as his Humour, which you must assume too.

Alon. Content.

Lov. To night I must pay my Duty to my Father, and will prepare your way, and acquaint my Sister with it; ’tis but a Frolick if we succeed not.

Alon. God-a-mercy, Lad, let’s about it then e’er we sleep, lest I change my Resolution before Morning. [Exeunt.

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ACT III.

Scene I. House of Carlo.

Enter Alonzo drest ridiculously, meeting Lovis, they laugh at each other.

Lov. Very Haunce all over, the Taylor has play’d his part, play but yours as well, and I’ll warrant you the Wench.

Alon. But prithee, why need I act the Fool thus, since Haunce was never seen here?

Lov. To make good the Character I always gave of him to my Father; but here he comes, pray be very rude, and very impertinent.

Alon. Lord, Lord, how shall I look thus damnably set out, and thus in love!

Enter Don Carlo.

Lov. This, Sir, is Monsieur Haunce, your Son that must be.

Alon. Beso los manos, signor: Is your Name Don Carlo? and are you the Gravity of this House? and the Father of Donna Euphemia? and are you—

Car. Sir, I guess by all these your Demands at once, your Name to be Myn heer Haunce van Ezel.

Alon. Your Judgment’s good; but to my Questions.

Car. In truth I have forgot them, there were so many.

Alon. Are you he who is to be my Father?

Car. ’Tis so negotiated—and if all Circumstances concur—For, Sir, you must conceive, the Consequence of so grand a Conjunction—

Alon. Less of your Compliments, Sir, and more of your Daughter, I beseech you. ’Sheart, what a formal Coxcomb ’tis. [Aside.

Lov. Prithee give him way. [Aside.

Alon. By this Light I’ll lose thy Sister first; Why, who can indure the grave approaches to the Matter? ’Dslife, I would have it as I would my Fate, sudden and unexpected.

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Car. Pray, how long have you been landed?

Alon. So, now shall I be plagu’d with nothing but wise Questions, to which I am able to make no Answer. [Aside.] Sir, it is your Daughter that I desire to see impatiently.

Car. Have you no Letters from my very good Friend your Father?

Alon. What if I have not? cannot I be admitted to your Daughter without a Pass?

Car. O lack, Sir—

Alon. But to let you see I come with full Power (tho I am old enough to recommend my self) here is my Commission for what I do. [Gives him Letters.

Car. I remember amongst his other Faults, my Son writ me word he had Courage: If so, I shall consider what to do. [Reads.] Sir, I find by these your Father’s Letters, you are not yet arriv’d.

Alon. I know that, Sir, but I was told I should express my Love in my haste; therefore outsailing the Pacquet, I was the welcome Messenger my self; and since I am so forward, I beseech you, Sir— [Carlo coming to imbrace him.

Now dare not I proceed, he has so credulous a consenting Face. [Aside.

Car. Spare your Words, I understand their meaning; a prudent Man speaks least, as the Spaniard has it: and since you are so forward, as you were saying, I shall not be backward; but as your Father adviseth here, hasten the uniting of our Families, with all celerity; for delay in these Affairs is but to prolong time, as the wise Man says.

Alon. You are much in the right, Sir. But my Wife, I desire to be better acquainted with her.

Car. She shall be forth-coming, Sir. Had you a good Passage? for the Seas and Winds regard no Man’s necessity.

Alon. No, no, a very ill one; your Daughter, Sir.

Car. Pray, how long were you at Sea?

Alon. Euphemia, Sir, Euphemia, your Daughter. This Don’s fuller of Questions than of Proverbs, and that’s a Wonder. [Aside.

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Car. They say Flanders is a very fine Country, I never saw it; but—

Alon. Nor ’tis no matter, Sir, if you never do, so I saw your Daughter. He’ll catechize me home to my Dutch Parents by and by, of which I can give him no more account than— [Aside.

Car. Are they as dissatisfied with their new Governour, as they were with Don John? for they love change.

Alon. A Pox of their Government, I tell you I love your Daughter.

Car. I fear ’tis so, he’s valiant; and what a dangerous Quality is that in Spain! ’tis well he’s rich. [Aside.

Lov. Pray, Sir, keep him not long in Discourse, the Sea has made him unfit for—

Alon. Any thing but seeing my Mistress.

Lov. I’ll have mercy upon thee, and fetch her to thee. [Ex. Lovis.

Car. Sir, you must know, that we suffer not our Women in Spain to converse so frequently with your Sex, and that thro a cautious—well consider’d prudent—Consideration.

Alon. But, Sir, do you consider what an impatient thing a young Lover is? Or is it so long since you were one your self, you have forgot it? ’Tis well he wanted Words. [Enter Euphemia and Lovis.] But yonder’s Euphemia, whose Beauty is sufficient to excuse every Defect in the whole Family, tho each were a mortal sin; and now ’tis impossible to guard my self longer from those fair Eyes. [Aside.

Car. I must not urge him to speak much before Euphemia, lest she discover he wants Wit by his much Tongue: [Aside.

There’s my Daughter, Sir, go and salute her.

Alon. Oh, I thank you for that, Sir. [He stands ridiculously looking on her.

Car. You must be bold, Sir.

Alon. Well, Sir, since you command me— [Goes rudely to kiss her.

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Car. I did not mean kissing by saluting.

Alon. I cry you Mercy, Sir, so I understood you.

Car. Fie upon’t, that he should be no more a Master of Civility.

Lov. I fear, Sir, my Sister will never like this Humour in her Lover; he wants common Conversation.

Car. Conversation—ye foolish Boy, he has Money, and needs none of your Conversation. And yet if I thought he were valiant—

[This while Alonzo and Euphemia make signs of Love with their Eyes.

Lov. I hope, Sir, he does not boast of more of that than he really has.

Car. That Fault I my self have been guilty of, and can excuse; but the thing it self I shall never endure: you know I was forc’d to send you abroad, because I thought you addicted to that. I shall never sleep in quiet—Valiant! that’s such a thing, to be Rich, or Wise and Valiant. [Goes to Euphemia.

Lov. Colonel, pray to the business, for I fear you will betray your self.

Car. But look upon his Wealth, Euphemia, and you will find those Advantages there which are wanting in his Person; but I think the Man’s well.

Euph. I must not seem to yield too soon. [Aside.

Sir, there be many Spaniards born that are as rich as he, and have Wit too.

Car. She was ever very averse to this Marriage. [Aside.

This Man is half a Spaniard, his Mother was one, and my first Mistress, and she I can tell you, was a great Fortune—

Euph. I, Sir, but he is such a Fool—

Car. You are a worse, to find fault with that in a Husband.

Alon. Stand aside, Sir, are you to court your Daughter or I?

Car. I was inclining her—

Alon. You inclining her! an old Man wants Rhetorick; set me to her. [Goes to Euphemia.

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Car. This capricious Humour was tolerable in him, Whilst I believ’d it the Effects of Folly, but now ’tis that of Valour: Oh, I tremble at the Sight of him. [Retires.

Euph. Now, I see you are a Cavalier of your Word.

Alon. Faith, Euphemia, you might have believ’d, and taken me upon better Terms, if you had so pleas’d: To marry you is but an ill-favour’d Proof to give you of my Passion.

Euph. Do you repent it?

Alon. Would to God ’twere come but to that, I was just upon the Point of it when you enter’d. But I know not what the Devil there is in that Face of yours, but it has debauch’d every sober Thought about me: Faith, do not let us marry yet.

Euph. If we had not proceeded too far to retreat, I should be content.

Alon. What shall I come to? all on the sudden to leave delicious whoring, drinking and fighting, and be condemn’d to a dull honest Wife. Well, if it be my ill Fortune, may this Curse light on thee that has brought me to’t: may I love thee even after we are married to that troublesome Degree, that I may grow most damnable jealous of thee, and keep thee from the Sight of all Mankind, but thy own natural Husband, that so thou may’st be depriv’d of the greatest Pleasure of this Life, the Blessing of Change.

Euph. I am sorry to find so much ill Nature in you; would you have the Conscience to tie me to harder Conditions than I would you?

Alon. Nay, I do not think I shall be so wickedly loving; but I am resolv’d to marry thee and try.

Euph. My Father, Sir, on with your Disguise. [To them Carlo.

Car. Well, Sir, how do you like my Daughter?

Alon. So, so, she’ll serve for a Wife.

Car. But do you find her willing to be so?

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Alon. ’Tis not a half-penny matter for that, as long as my Father and you are agreed upon the matter,

Car. Well, Euphemia, setting all foolish Modesty aside, how do you like this Man?

Euph. As one, whom in Obedience to you, I am content to cast my self away upon.

Car. How seems his Humour to you?

Euph. Indifferent, Sir, he is not very courtly, something rough and hasty.

Car. I fear she has found his ill Quality of Valour too; and since ’tis certain ’tis so, why should it be said that I ruin’d a Child to satisfy my Appetite of Riches? [Aside.

Come, Daughter, can you love him, or can you not? For I’ll make but short Work on’t; you are my Daughter, and have a Fortune great enough to inrich any Man; and I’m resolv’d to put no Force upon your Inclinations.

Euph. How’s this! nay, then ’tis time I left dissembling. [Aside.] Sir, this Bounty in you has strangely overcome me, and makes me asham’d to have withstood your Will so long.

Car. Do not dissemble with me, I say do not; for I am resolv’d you shall be happy.

Euph. Sir, my Obedience shall—

Car. No more of your Obedience; I say again, do not dissemble, for I’m not pleas’d with your Obedience.

Euph. This Alteration is very strange and sudden; pray Heaven he have not found the Cheat. [Aside.

Love, Sir, they say will come after Marriage; pray let me try it.

Car. Few have found it so; nor shall you experience it at so dear a Rate as your Ruin.

Euph. But, Sir, methinks I am grown to love him more since he spoke to me, than before.

Car. The Effects of your Obedience again.

Euph. This is a strange Alteration, Sir; not all my Tears and Prayers before I saw him, could prevail with you. I beseech you, Sir, believe me.

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Car. Nor should now, had I not another Reason for’t.

Euph. Oh, I fear—But, Sir—

Car. Go to, I’ll be better satisfy’d e’er I proceed farther—both of your Inclinations, and his Courage. [Aside.

Euph. Do you consider his Wealth, Sir?

Car. That shall not now befriend him.

Alon. Sir, I bar whispering; ’tis not in my Bargain, nor civil: I’ll have fair Play for my Money.

Car. I am only knowing my Daughter’s Pleasure; she is a little peevish, as Virgins use in such Cases; but wou’d that were all, and I’d endeavour to reconcile her.

Alon. I thank you, Sir; in the mean time I’ll take a Walk for an Hour or two, to get me a better Stomach both to my Dinner and Mistress.

Car. Do so, Sir. Come, Euphemia, I will give you a Proof of my Indulgence, thou shalt marry no valiant Fools! valiant, quoth ye. Come, come—had he been peaceable and rich—Come, come— [Ex. with Euphemia.

Lov. Well, now I’ll go look after my Dutchman, lest he surprize us here, which must not be; where shall I find you?

Alon. I’ll wait upon my Prince, and then on you here.

Lov. Do so, and carry on this Humour. Adieu.

Scene II. A flat Grove.

Enter Haunce in a fantastical travelling Habit, with a Bottle of Brandy in his Hand, as sick: Gload marches after.

Hau. Ah, ah, a pox of all Sea-Voyages. [Drinks.

Here, Gload, take thee t’other Sope, and then let’s home. [Gload drinks.

Ah, ah, a pox of all Sea-Voyages.

Gload. Sir, if I may advise, take t’other turn in the Grove, for I find by my Nose you want more airing.

Hau. How, Sirrah! by your Nose? have a care, you know ’tis ill jesting with me when I’m angry.

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Gload. Which is as often as you are drunk; I find it has the same Effects on me too: but truly, Sir, I meant no other than that you smell a little of the Vessel, a certain sour remains of a Storm about you.

Hau. Ah, ah, do not name a Storm to me, unless thou wilt have the Effects on’t in thy Face. [Drinks.

Gload. Sha, sha, bear up, Sir, bear up.

Hau. Salerimente, a Sea-phrase too! Why, ye Rascal, I tell you I can indure nothing that puts me in mind of that Element. [Drinks.

Gload. The Sight of Donna Euphemia will— [Gload drinks between whiles too.

Hau. Hold, hold, let me consider whether I can indure to hear her nam’d or not; for I think I am so thorowly mortify’d, I shall hardly relish Woman-kind again this—two Hours. [Drinks.

Gload. You a Man of Courage, and talk thus!

Hau. Courage! Why, what dost thou call Courage?—Hector himself would not have chang’d his ten Years Siege for our ten Days Storm at Sea—a Storm—a hundred thousand fighting Men are nothing to’t; Cities sackt by Fire nothing: ’tis a resistless Coward that attacks a Man at disadvantage; an unaccountable Magick, that first conjures down a Man’s Courage, and then plays the Devil over him. And in fine, it is a Storm—

Gload. Good lack that it should be all these terrible things, and yet that we should outbrave it.

Hau. No god-a-mercy to our Courages tho, I tell you that now, Gload; but like an angry Wench, when it had huft and bluster’d it self weary, it lay still again. [Drinks.

Gload. Hold, hold, Sir, you know we are to make Visits to Ladies, Sir; and this replenishing of our Spirits, as you call it, Sir, may put us out of Case.

Hau. Thou art a Fool, I never made love so well as when I was drunk; it improves my Parts, and makes me witty; that is, it makes me say any thing that comes next, which 271 passes now-a-days for Wit: and when I am very drunk, I’ll home and dress me, and the Devil’s in’t if she resist me so qualify’d and so dress’d.

Gload. Truly, Sir, those are things that do not properly belong to you.

Hau. Your Reason, your Reason; we shall have thee witty too in thy Drink, hah! [Laughs.

Gload. Why, I say, Sir, none but a Cavalier ought to be soundly drunk, or wear a Sword and Feather; and a Cloke and Band were fitter for a Merchant.

Hau. Salerimente, I’ll beat any Don in Spain that does but think he has more right to any sort of Debauchery, or Gallantry than I, I tell you that now, Gload.

Gload. Do you remember, Sir, how you were wont to go at home? when instead of a Periwig, you wore a slink, greasy Hair of your own, thro which a pair of large thin Souses appear’d, to support a formal Hat, on end thus— [Imitates him.

Hau. Ha, ha, ha, the Rogue improves upon’t. [Gives him Brandy.

Gload. A Collar instead of a Cravat twelve inches high; with a blue, stiff, starcht, lawn Band, set in print like your Whiskers; a Doublet with small Skirts hookt to a pair of wide-kneed Breeches, which dangled halfway over a Leg, all to be dash’d and dirty’d as high as the gartering.

Hau. Ha, ha, ha, very well, proceed. [Drinks.

Gload. Your Hands, defil’d with counting of damn’d dirty Money, never made other use of Gloves, than continually to draw them thro—thus—till they were dwindled into the scantling of a Cats-gut.

Hau. Ha, ha, ha, a pleasant Rascal. [Drinks.

Gload. A Cloke, half a yard shorter than the Breeches, not thorow lin’d, but fac’d as far as ’twas turn’d back, with a pair of frugal Butter-hams, which was always manag’d—thus—

Hau. Well, Sir, have you done, that I may show you this Merchant revers’d?

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Gload. Presently, Sir; only a little touch at your Debauchery, which unless it be in damn’d Brandy, you dare not go to the Expence of. Perhaps at a Wedding, or some Treat where your Purse is not concern’d, you would most insatiably tipple; otherwise your two Stivers-Club is the highest you dare go, where you will be condemn’d for a Prodigal, (even by your own Conscience) if you add two more extraordinary to the Sum, and at home sit in the Chimney-Corner, cursing the Face of Duke de Alva upon the Jugs, for laying an Imposition on Beer: And now, Sir, I have done.

Hau. And dost thou not know, when one of those thou hast described, goes but half a League out of Town, that he is so transform’d from the Merchant to the Gallant in all Points, that his own Parents, nay the Devil himself cannot know him? Not a young English Squire newly come to an Estate, above the management of his Wit, has better Horses, gayer Clothes, swears, drinks, and does every thing with a better grace than he; damns the stingy Cabal of the two Stiver-Club, and puts the young King of Spain and his Mistress together in a Rummer of a Pottle; and in pure Gallantry breaks the Glasses over his Head, scorning to drink twice in the same: and a thousand things full as heroick and brave I cou’d tell you of this same Holy-day Squire. But come, t’other turn, and t’other sope, and then for Donna Euphemia. For I find I begin to be reconcil’d to the Sex.

Gload. But, Sir, if I might advise, let’s e’en sleep first.

Hau. Away, you Fool, I hate the sober Spanish way of making Love, that’s unattended with Wine and Musick; give me a Wench that will out-drink the Dutch, out-dance the French, and out—out—kiss the English.

Gload. Sir, that’s not the Fashion in Spain.

Hau. Hang the Fashion; I’ll manage her that must be my Wife, as I please, or I’ll beat her into Fashion.

Gload. What, beat a Woman, Sir?

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Hau. Sha, all’s one for that; if I am provok’d, Anger will have its Effects on whomsoe’er it light; so said Van Trump, when he took his Mistress a Cuff o’th’ Ear for finding fault with an ill-fashion’d Leg he made her: I lik’d his Humour well, therefore come thy ways. [Exeunt.

Scene III. Draws off. A Grove.

Discovers Antonio sleeping on the Ground; Hippolyta sitting by, who sings.

[He wakes, rises, and looks amazedly to see the Dagger in her Hand.

Ant. Vile Woman, why that Dagger in that Hand?

Hip. Antonio, thou art perjur’d, false and base. [In great Rage.

Ant. What said my fairest Mistress? [Goes to her looking softly.

Hip. I said that thou wert perjur’d, false and base. [Less in Rage.

Hip. I said that thou wert perjur’d, my Antonio. [Sighs.

[She leans on his Bosom, he the while gets her Dagger.

Hip. And durst you not revenge your self on him?

Hip. The Devil taught thee this.

Ant. Hear me out.

Hip. Most calmly.

Ant. Your Price, I pray, young Sinner? [Pulls off his Hat in scorn.

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Enter Haunce and Gload drunk; Haunce seeing them, offers to go out again.

Glo. Hold, hold, Sir, why do you run away?

Hau. Thou Fool, dost not see the Reason?

Glo. I see a Man and a Lady, Sir.

Ant. How! Men here? Your Business.

Hau. Prithee, Friend, do not trouble your self with ours, but follow your own; my Man is a little saucy in his Drink indeed, but I am sober enough to understand how things go.

Ant. Leave us then.

Hau. Leave us then—good Words, good Words, Friend; for look ye, I am in a notable Humour at present, and will be intreated.

Glo. Yes, Sir, we will be intreated.

Ant. Pray leave us then.

Hau. That’s something—but hark ye, Friend, say a Man had a mind to put in for a share with you.

Ant. Rude Slaves, leave us.

Hau. Ha, Slaves!

Glo. Slaves said you, Sir? hah—

Hip. Oh, as you’re a Gentleman, assist me. [To Haunce.

Hau. Assist thee? this Fellow looks as he would not have his Abilities call’d in question; otherwise I am amorous enough to do thee a kindness. [Offers still to go, she holds him.

Hip. Sir, you mistake me; this is a Ravisher—

Hau. A Ravisher! ha, ha, ha, dost like him the worse for that? No, no, I beg your Pardon, Madam.

Hip. Have you no Manhood, Sir?

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Glo. She is in earnest; now if I durst stay, how I would domineer over my Master; I never try’d perhaps, I may be valiant thus inspir’d. Lady, I am your Champion, who dares ravish you, or me either?

Ant. Rascal, unhand her. [He comes up to them, Gload puts the Lady before him.

Hau. How now, Gload ingag’d! nay, I scorn to be out-done by my Man. Sirrah, march off with the Baggage, whilst I secure the Enemy.

Ant. Rash Man, what mean you?

Hau. I say, stand off, and let him go quietly away with the Wench, or look you—

Ant. Unmanner’d Fool, I will chastise thy Boldness. [Goes up to him with his Dagger.

Hau. How, how, hast thou no other Weapon?

Ant. No, if I had, thou durst not have encounter’d me.

Hau. I scorn thy Words, and therefore there lies my Sword; and since you dare me at my own Weapon, I tell you I am good at Snick-a-Sne as the best Don of you all— [Draws a great Dutch Knife.

Ant. Can I endure this Affront?

Glo. The best way to make a Coward fight, is to leave him in Danger—Come, Lady— [Goes out.

Ant. Thou base unmanner’d Fool, how darst thou offer at a Gentleman, with so despis’d a thing as that?

Hau. Despis’d a thing? talk not so contemptibly of this Weapon, I say, do not, but come on if you dare.

Ant. I can endure no longer— [Flies at him, Haunce cuts his Face, and takes away, after a-while, his Dagger.

Injustice! can such a Dog, and such a Weapon vanquish me?

Hau. Beg your Life; for I scorn to stain my Victory in Blood—that I learnt out of Pharamond. [Aside.

Ant. He does not merit Life, that could not defend it against so poor and base a thing as thou: Had but Marcel left me my Sword—

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Hau. O then I perceive you are us’d to be vanquish’d, and therefore I scorn to kill thee; live, live.

Ant. How the Rascal triumphs over me!

Hau. And now, like a generous Enemy, I will conduct thee to my Tent, and have thy Wounds drest—That too I had out of Pharamond. [Aside.

Ant. What if I take the offer of this Sot? so I may see Hippolyta again. But I forget— [Aside.

Hau. Will you accept my Offer?

Ant. For some Reasons I dare not venture into the Town.

Hau. My Lodging is at St. Peter’s Gate, hard by; and on the Parole of a Man of Prowess you shall be safe and free—Pharamond again. [Aside.

Ant. I’ll trust him, for worse I cannot be. [Aside.

Lead on, I’ll follow, Sir—

Hau. Not so, for tho the Captive ought to follow the Victor, yet I’ll not trust my Enemy at my backside. Politicks too.— [Aside.

Ant. You must command— [Go out.

Scene IV. The Garden.

Enter Silvio and Francisca.

Silv. Well, dear Francisca, will Cleonte come, And all alone into the Garden?

Fran. My Lord, she will; I have at last prevail’d, to what intent she knows not; this is an Hour wherein you’ll scarce be interrupted: The amorous Entertainment you have prepar’d for her, will advance your Design; such Objects heighten the Desire. Is all ready on your part?

Silv. It is, and I am prepared for all the Resistance she can make, and am resolv’d to satisfy my insupportable Flame, since there’s no other hope left me.

Fran. She’s coming, Sir, retire. [Exit Silvio into the Garden.

Oh, how he kills me! Well, at least this pleasure I have 280 whilst I am dying, that when he possesses the fair Cleonte, he for ever ruins his Interest in her Heart, and must find nothing but her mortal Hate and Scorn.

Enter Cleonte.

Cleo. Francisca, why art thou so earnest for my coming into the Garden so early?

Fran. Because, Madam, here without Interruption you may learn what the Lady Clarinda has to tell you.

Cleo. Is that all? go wait upon her hither then.

Fran. Yes, when your more pleasant Affair is dispatch’d, I will— [Aside.

[Exit Francisca.

[A noise of rural Musick is heard within the Trees, as Pipes, Flutes, and Voices.

Hah! what pleasant Noise is this? sure ’tis i’ the Air— Bless me, what strange things be these!

Enter Swains playing upon Pipes, after them four Shepherds with Garlands and Flowers, and four Nymphs dancing an amorous Dance to that Musick; wherein the Shepherds make Love to the Nymphs, and put the Garlands on their Heads, and go out; the Nymphs come and lay them at Cleonte’s Feet, and sing.

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The Scene changes to a fine Arbour, they leave her and vanish.

Cleo. I am all Wonder.

Enter Silvio in rapture, not yet seeing Cleonte.

Cleo. Silvio here!

Cleo. What mean you? do you know I am your Sister?

Cleo. Sure, Silvio, this is but to try my Virtue. [Weeps still.

Silv. No, look on my Eyes, Cleonte, and thou shalt see them flame with a strange wicked Fire. [Looks wildly on her.

Yet do not look, thy Eyes increase it.
—Alas! [Turns away, and hides his Eyes.

Cleo. Pray hear me, Sir.

Cleo. To kill me!

Cleo. I will obey you, Sir. [Goes into the Garden.

Silv. She’s gone—and now [Walks, and talks in stopping.] my hot Fit abates—she is my Sister—that is, my Father’s 283 Daughter—but—what if his Wife deceiv’d him—or perhaps—(which is the likelier thing) my Mother play’d the false one—for ’twas her Trade to do so—and I’m not Son to Ambrosio—Oh, that she were in being to confess this Truth, for sure ’tis Truth; then I might love, and might enjoy Cleonte—enjoy Cleonte! [In transport.] Oh that Thought! what Fire it kindles in my Veins, and now my cold Fit’s gone— [Offers to go, but starts and returns.

Enter Ambrosio and Marcel.

Amb. I’m reconcil’d to you, since your Brother Silvio would have it so.

Mar. My Blood flows to my Face, to hear him named.

Amb. Let there be no more Differences between you: But Silvio has of late been discontented, keeps home, and shuns the Conversation which Youth delights in; goes not to Court as he was wont. Prithee, Marcel, learn thou the cause of it.

Mar. I do believe I shall, my Lord—too soon. [Aside.

Amb. I’m now going to my Villa, and shall not return till Night; by the way I mean to visit your Wife, that was design’d to be, the rich Flavia, and see if I can again reconcile her to you; for your Neglect has been great, and her Anger is just.

Mar. I rather wish it should continue, Sir, for I have yet no Inclinations to marry.

Amb. No more, I’ll have it so, if I can.

Mar. I’m silent, Sir. [Ex. Ambrosio and Marcel.

Enter as from out of the Garden, Cleonte, Clarinda, Francisca, Dormida, from amongst the Trees, sadly; Silvio who starts at sight of them.

Cleo. I am satisfied you knew not of my Brother’s being in the Garden. [To Franc.

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Silv. Clarinda with my Sister! and in our House! she’s very fair—and yet how dull and blasted all her Beauties seems, when they approach the fair Cleonte’s—I cannot shun a tedious Compliment; to see the fair Clarinda [Goes to Clarinda.] here, is a Happiness beyond my Hope; I’m glad to see her kind to the Sister, who always treated the Brother with so much Scorn and Rigour.

Clar. Silvio! sure I’m betray’d. [Aside. [He talks to her.

Enter Marcel, and is amaz’d.

Mar. Hah! Silvio with Clarinda in our House! Oh, daring Villain! to make this place a Sanctuary To all thy Lusts and Treachery! Now I’m convinc’d, ’twas he that wounded me, And he that fled last Night with that false Woman. [Cleonte goes to Marcel.

Silv. You need not fear me now, fair Maid, I’m disarm’d of all my dangerous Love.

Mar. It was by his contrivance that she came, [To Cleonte.] do not excuse him, but send her quickly from you, lest you become as infamous as she.—

Cleo. Oh, how I hate her now; I know my Brother Silvio loves her.

Mar. How every Gesture shows his Passion, whilst she seems pleas’d to hear him. I can endure no more—

Cleo. What will you do? [She goes to them.

Silv. What mean you by this rude Address, Marcel?

Mar. I’ll tell ye, Sir, anon. Go get you in. [To the Women, who go in.

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Silv. Well, Sir, your Business now?

Mar. It is not safe to tell you here, tho I have hardly Patience to stay till thou meet me in St. Peter’s Grove.

Silv. I will not fail you, Sir, an Hour hence. [Goes in after them.

Mar. I dare not in this Rage return to upbraid Clarinda, lest I do things that mis-become a Man. [Goes out.

ACT IV.

Scene I. Carlo’s House.

After a Noise of Musick without, enter Haunce drest as Alonzo was, follow’d by Gload, in Masquerade.

Hau. Hold, hold, I do not like the Salutations I receive from all I meet in this House.

Glo. Why, Sir, methinks they are very familiar Scabs all.

Hau. Salerimente, they all salute me as they were my old Acquaintance. Your servant, Myn heer Haunce, crys one; your servant, Monsieur Haunce, crys another.

Enter Servant.

Serv. Your servant, Sir, you come indeed like a Bridegroom all beset with Dance and Fiddle.

Hau. Bridegroom! ha, ha, ha, dost hear, Gload? ’tis true faith. But how the Devil came he to know it, man, hah?

Serv. My Master, Sir, was just asking for you, he longs to speak with you.

Hau. Ha, ha, with me, Sir? why, ha, ha, who the pox am I?

Serv. You, Sir, why, who should you be?

Hau. Who should I be? why, who should I be?

Serv. Myn heer Haunce van Ezel, Sir.

Hau. Ha, ha, ha, well guest, i’faith now.

Glo. Why how should they guess otherwise, coming so attended with Musick, as prepar’d for a Wedding?

Hau. Ha, ha, ha, say’st thou so? faith, ’tis a good Device to save the Charges of the first Compliments, hah: but 286 hark ye, hark ye, Friend, are you sure this is the House of Don Carlo?

Serv. Why, Sir, have you forgot it?

Hau. Forgot it! ha, ha, ha, dost hear, Gload? forgot it! why how the Devil should I remember it?

Glo. Sir, I believe this is some new-fashion’d Civility in Spain, to know every Man before he sees him.

Hau. No, no, you fool, they never change their Fashion in Spain, Man.

Glo. I mean their manner of Address, Sir.

Hau. It may be so, I’ll see farther. Friend, is Don Carlo within?

Serv. He has not been out since, Sir.

Hau. Since, ha, ha, ha, since when? hah.

Serv. Since you saw him, Sir.

Hau. Salerimente, will you make me mad? why you damnable Rascal, when did I see him? hah.

Serv. Here comes my Master himself, Sir, [Enter Carlo.] let him inform you, if you grow so hot upon the Question.

Car. How now, Son, what, angry? You have e’en tir’d your self with walking, and are out of Humour.

Hau. Look there again—the old Man’s mad too; why how the pox should he know I have been walking? Indeed, Sir, I have, as you say, been walking [Playing with his Hat.] —and am—as you say, out of Humour—But under favour, Sir, who are you? Sure ’tis the old Conjurer, and those were his little Imps I met. [Surlily to him.

Car. Sure, Son, you should be a Wit, by the shortness of your Memory.

Hau. By the Goodness of yours, you should be none, ha, ha, ha. Did I not meet with him there, Gload, hah? But pray refresh my Memory, and let me know you; I come to seek a Father amongst you here, one Don Carlo.

Car. Am I not the Man, Sir?

Hau. How the Devil should I know that now, unless by instinct?

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Glo. The old Man is mad, and must be humour’d.

Hau. Cry you Mercy, Sir, I vow I had quite forgot you. Sir, I hope Donna Euphemia—

Car. Oh, Sir, she’s in a much better Humour than when you saw her last, complies with our Desires more than I cou’d hope or wish.

Hau. Why look you here again—I ask’d after her Health, not her Humour.

Car. I know not what Arts you made use of, but she’s strangely taken with your Conversation and Person.

Glo. Truly, Sir, you are mightily beholden to her, that she should have all this good Will to your Person and Conversation before she sees you.

Hau. Ay, so I am; therefore, Sir, I desire to see your Daughter, for I shall hardly be so generous as she has been, and be quits with her before I see her.

Car. Why, Sir, I hop’d you lik’d her when you saw her last.

Hau. Stark mad—I saw her last! why, what the Devil do you mean? I never saw her in all my Life, man. Stark mad, as I am true Dutch— [Aside.

Car. A Lover always thinks the time tedious: But here’s my Daughter.

Enter Euphemia and Olinda.

Hau. Ay, one of these must be she: but ’tis a Wonder I should not know which she is by instinct. [Aside.

[Stands looking very simply on both.

Euph. This is not Alonzo—has he betray’d me? [Aside.

Car. Go, Sir, she expects you.

Hau. Your pardon, Sir; let her come to me, if she will, I’m sure she knows me better than I do her.

Glo. How should she know you, Sir?

Hau. How? by instinct, you Fool, as all the rest of the House does: don’t you, fair Mistress?

Euph. I know you—

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Hau. Yes, you know me; you need not be so coy mun, the old Man has told me all.

Euph. What has he told you?—I am ruin’d. [Aside.

Hau. Faith, much more than I believ’d, for he was very full of his new-fashion’d Spanish Civility, as they call it; But ha, ha, I hope, fair Mistress, you do not take after him?

Euph. What if I do, Sir?

Hau. Why then I had as lieve marry a Steeple with a perpetual Ring of Bells.

Glo. Let me advise you, Sir; methinks you might make a handsomer Speech for the first, to so pretty a Lady—Fakes, and were I to do’t—

Hau. I had a rare Speech for her thou knowest, and an Entertainment besides, that was, tho I say it, unordinary: But a pox of this new way of Civility, as thou call’st it, it has put me quite beside my part.

Glo. Tho you are out of your complimenting Part, I am not out of my dancing one, and therefore that part of your Entertainment I’ll undertake for. ’Slife, Sir, would you disappoint all our Ship’s Company?—

Hau. That’s according as I find this proud Tit in Humour.

Car. And why so coy? pray why all this Dissimulation? Come, come, I have told him your Mind, and do intend to make you both happy immediately.

Euph. How, Sir, immediately!

Car. Yes, indeed; nay, if you have deceiv’d me, and dissembled with me, when I was so kind, I’ll show you Trick for Trick i’faith— [Goes to Haunce.

Euph. What shall we do, Olinda?

Olin. Why marry Don Alonzo, Madam.

Euph. Do not rally, this is no time for Mirth.

Olin. Fie upon’t, Madam, that you should have so little Courage; your Father takes this Fellow to be Alonzo.

Car. What Counsel are you giving there, hah?

Olin. Only taking leave of our old Acquaintance, since you talk of marrying us so soon.

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Car. What Acquaintance, pray?

Olin. Our Maiden-heads, Sir.

Hau. Ha, ha, ha, a pleasant Wench, faith now; I believe you would be content to part with yours with less warning.

Olin. On easy Terms perhaps, but this marrying I do not like; ’tis like going a long Voyage to Sea, where after a while even the Calms are distasteful, and the Storms dangerous: one seldom sees a new Object, ’tis still a deal of Sea, Sea; Husband, Husband, every day,—till one’s quite cloy’d with it.

Car. A mad Girl this, Son.

Hau. Ay, Sir, but I wish she had left out the simile, it made my Stomach wamble.

Glo. Pray, Sir, let you the Maid alone as an Utensil belonging to my Place and Office, and meddle you with the Mistress.

Hau. Faith now, thou hast the better Bargain of the two; my Mistress looks so scurvily and civil, that I don’t know what to say to her—Lady—hang’t, that look has put me quite out again.

Car. To her, Son, to her—

Hau. Hark ye, Lady—Well, what next now? Oh pox, quite out, quite out; tell me whether the old Man ly’d or no, when he told me you lov’d me.

Euph. I love you!

Hau. Look you there now, how she looks again.

Car. She’s only bashful, Sir, before me; therefore if you please to take a small Collation, that has waited within for you this three Hours—

Hau. That’s strange now, that any thing should wait for me, who was no more expected here than Bethlehem-Gaber: Faith now, Lady, this Father of yours is very simple.

Euph. To take you for his Son.

Hau. I meant to have surpriz’d you I vow, before you had dreamt of me; and when I came, you all knew me as well as if you had cast a Figure for me.

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Car. Well, Son, you’ll follow.

Euph. You will not leave me alone, Sir, with a Man?

Hau. Go your ways, go your ways—I shall know more of your Secrets before [Gload makes Grimaces to Olinda of Love.] night yet, you little pouting Hypocrite you.

Euph. You know my Secrets! why, who are you?

Hau. Ha, ha, ha, that’s a very good one faith now: who am I, quoth thou? why there’s not a Child thus high in all your Father’s House would have ask’d me so simple a Question.

Olin. Madam, I find by this Man, this is your expected Lover, whom you must flatter, or you are undone, ’tis Haunce van Ezel. [To Euphemia.

Euph. The Fop himself.

Hau. Oh, do you know me now?

Euph. ’Tis impossible.

Hau. This is an extreme the other way now. [Aside.

Impossible, ha, ha, ha! No, no, poor thing, do not doubt thy Happiness: for look ye, to confirm you, here are my Bills of Exchange with my own natural Name to them, if you can read written Hand— [Shews her Papers.

Glo. Not love you! I’ll swear you lye now, you little Jade, I am now in Masquerade, and you cannot judge of me; but I am Book-keeper and Cashier to my Master, and my Love will turn to account, I’ll warrant you.

Olin. There may be use made of him. [Aside.

I shall think of it. But pray why are you thus accouter’d?

Glo. Fakes, to entertain your Lady, we have brought the whole Ship’s Company too in Masquerade.

Olin. That indeed will be very proper at this time of the Day, and the first Visit too.

Glo. Shaw, that’s nothing, you little think what Blades we are mun—Sir, I’ll call in the Fiddles and the Company.

Hau. Well remember’d, faith, now I had e’en forgot it.

Euph. What’s the meaning of this? [Fiddles strike up.

Hau. To show you the difference between the damnable 291 dull Gravity of the Spanish, and brisk Gaiety of the Dutch. Come, come, begin all.

Enter Dutchmen and Women dancing.

Nay, I’ll shew you what I can do too, come, Gload. [They two dance.

There’s for you now, and yet you have not seen half my good Qualities; I can sing the newest Ballad that has been made, so I can. [Sings a Dutch Song.

Euph. Be these your Friends, Sir? they look as if you had ransack’d a Hoy for them.

Hau. How! look on them well, they are all States or States-fellows, I tell you that now, and they can bear witness who I am too.

Euph. Now I’m convinced, and am sorry I doubted my Happiness so long: I had such a Character of you.

Hau. Of me! oh Lord, I vow now—as they say—I don’t know—ha, ha—

Euph. I heard you were the most incorrigible Fool, the most intolerable Fop.

Hau. Ha, ha, ha, do you hear, Gload—who, I a Fop? I vow they were mistaken in me, for I am counted as pretty a Merchant as any walks the Change; can write a very plain Hand, and cast Account as well—my man Gload—can’t I, Sirrah?

Glo. Yes indeed, forsooth, can he.

Hau. Egad, a Fool, a Fop, quoth ye— [Walks angry.

Olin. By all means flatter him, Madam.

Euph. I’m satisfy’d, Sir.

Hau. I care not whether you are or no, for I shall have you whether you will or no, mun.

Euph. ’Tis very likely; but there is a certain troublesome Fellow in love with me, that has made me vow whenever I marry to ask him leave.

Hau. How, ask his leave? I scorn to ask any Body’s leave, I tell you that, tho ’twere my Mistress—

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Euph. I cannot marry you then.

Hau. How, not marry me? look here now: [Ready to cry.

Gload, can’t you marry, and let no living Soul know it?

Euph. Oh no, Sir, I love your Life better, which would be indanger’d.

Hau. Why, what a cursed Custom you have in Spain, a Man can neither marry, nor console his Neighbour’s Wife without having his Throat cut. Why, what if he will not give you leave?

Euph. Why, then you must fight him.

Hau. How! fight him, I fight him!

Glo. Why, yes, Sir, you know you can fight, you try’d but this very Morning—

Hau. Softly, you damn’d Rogue, not a Word of my Prowess aloud. Salerimente, I shall be put to fight when I am sober, shall I, for your damn’d prating, ye Rascal?

Euph. I am glad you have that good Quality.

[Olinda speaking to Gload, pushes him to speak.

Hau. I’ll have your Ears for this, Sirrah, the next time I’m soundly drunk, and you know that won’t be long. [Aside.

Lord, Madam, my Man knows not what he says.
Ye Rascal, say I have no Courage—or I will drink my self to the Miracle of Valour, and exercise it all on thee.

Glo. I know what I do, Sir, you had Courage this Morning, is the Fit over?

Hau. Have I not slept since, you Rogue, have I not?

Glo. I have a trick to save your Honour, Sir, and therefore I will stand in’t you have Courage.

Hau. A Pox of your Trick, the Rogue knows I dare not chastise him now, for fear they should think I have Valour.

Glo. Madam, my Master’s modest, but tell him who ’tis he must fight with—

Hau. Oh, for a Tun of Rhenish—that I might abundantly beat thee—

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Euph. Your Rival’s Name’s Alonzo, Sir.

Hau. Oh the Devil, a thundring Name too; but will this same—Alonzo make no allowance for necessity?—I vow ’tis pure necessity in me to marry you: the old Men being agreed upon the Matter, I am but an Instrument—alas, not I, [Crys.

A very Tool, as they say, so I am.

Glo. Lord, Sir, why do you cry? I meant no harm.

Hau. No harm, you Rascal—to say I am valiant.

Glo. Why, yes, Sir, and if you would say so too, at worst ’twas but getting Don Lovis to have fought for you; you know that’s a small courtesy to a Friend.

Hau. Faith, now thou art in the right; he’ll do his Business for him, I’ll warrant him. [Wipes his Eyes.

Nay then, Madam, I have Courage, and will to this Don—this Alonzo you speak of; and if he do not resign you, and consign you too, I’ll make him; yes, make him, do ye see—If Lovis should refuse me now— [Aside.

Glo. Shaw, Sir, he makes nothing to kill a Man, ten or twenty.

Euph. Well, since you are so resolv’d, my Brother will tell you where to find this Alonzo; and tell him, I must marry you to day, for I am resolv’d not to lie alone tonight.

Hau. What would not a Man do for so kind a Mistress?

Euph. Well, get you about it strait then, lest my Father’s coming prevent it. [Exeunt Euphemia and Olinda.

Hau. I am gone—but if Lovis should fail—

Glo. He would beat you, if he thought you doubted him.

Hau. I’ll keep my Fears then to my self. [Go out.

Scene II. The Street.

Enter Hippolyta drest like a Man, with a Paper.

Enter Haunce and Gload. She stands aside.

Hau. Gload, if it were possible I could be sober, and valiant at once, I should now be provok’d to exercise it: for I cannot find Lovis, and then how I shall come off, the Lord knows. And then again, for letting the Lady go, whom I rescu’d in the Grove this Morning.

Glo. Should I disobey a Lady, Sir? for she commanded me to let her go so soon as she came into the Gate. And, Sir, look, here comes Don Lovis.

Enter Lovis and Alonzo.

Hau. Oh, Brother Lovis, where the Devil have you been all this Day? I stay’d for you to go with me to your Sister’s, as long as Flesh and Blood could forbear.

Lov. Why, have you been there without me?

Hau. Yes, marry have I, Sir.

Alon. I am undone then— [Aside.

Hau. I needed no Recommendation mun, for when I came they were all as well acquainted with me—I never saw them before; but by the way, they are all no wiser than they should be, except your Sister, who is the pretty’st loving, sweet Rogue—

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Alon. How’s this?

Lov. But have you seen my Sister?

Hau. Seen her! yes, and will marry her too mun before Night, an she were a thousand Sisters—but harkye, Lovis, the business is this—you must know that before I marry her, I am to seek out a certain Fellow, they call—they call Alonzo, ay, ay, Alonzo—a Pox on him, a troublesome Rascal they say he is; and his leave, it seems, must be askt to marry your Sister.

Lov. Well, Sir, and what if he will not give you leave?

Hau. Why then, you must know I am to get him very well favour’dly beaten.

Alon. Sure this is the Coxcomb himself.

Hau. Now for your Sister’s sake, who loves me, poor thing, I will not run the danger of beating him my self, but must desire that small courtesy of thee.

Lov. How! I beat him?

Hau. You beat him, yes, you; what a Pox do you scruple such a kindness to a Friend? I know you make no more of killing a Man next your Heart in a Morning, than I do of eating a pickled Herring.

Lov. But she desir’d you to do’t.

Hau. That’s all one so it be done, mun; besides, why should I run my self into a Premunire, when I need not? Your Father is bound by Agreement to mine, to deliver me the Wares (that is, his Daughter) safe and sound; and I have no more to do, but to protest against him in case of Non-performance. ’Twill be a dear Commodity to me at this rate. [Cries.

Lov. Well, Sir, I’ll see what may be done.

Hau. Spoke like a Friend now: Well, you must about it instantly, for I must be married to day.

Alon. Must you so, Sir?—

Hau. Yes marry must I, Sir—Who the Devil’s this now? [To Lovis.

Alon. That same Alonzo whom you inquire for.

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Hau. Are you so, Sir?—Why, what then, Sir,—Lovis, Lovis. [Runs behind Lovis.

Alon. What then, Sir? then I tell you, I will not be beaten.

Hau. Look ye here now—Lovis.

Lov. Ha, ha, ha, canst thou be angry with him? [To Alonzo.

Hau. I, can you be angry with me?

Alon. I know not why an Ass should have more privilege than any other rude Beast.

Lov. Ha, ha, ha, this Humour’s so pleasant in thee, I wish thou wouldst pursue it a little—Haunce, bear up to him, he’s but a mere Huff, ha, ha, ha. [Claps him on the Back, he goes fearfully forward.

Glo. I, Sir, as long as Don Lovis is here, you may say what you will.

Hau. May I so?—and why, Sir?—am I, Sir—an Ass, Sir? [Runs behind Lovis.

Alon. ’Sdeath, you Rascal, do you question me?

Hau. Oh, hold, Sir, hold, not I, God forbid I should question it, Lovis—is it, indeed, Alonzo, hah?

Lov. Yes indeed is it.

Hau. And wilt thou not do so much as to beat him for me a little?

Lov. Not I, I dare not, he’s a terrible Man.

Hau. Why look you here now, you damn’d Rogue, [To Gload.] Have not you serv’d me finely, hah?

Gload. Why, Sir, ’tis but crying Peccavi.

Hau. Peccavi, and be hang’d to you—Lord, Sir, [To Alonzo.] why are you so angry? I came but to ask you a civil Question, from my Wife that must be.

Alon. You must ask me leave, first.

Hau. Yes, yes, Sir, so she said mun; for she must marry me to night.

Alon. Yes, you shall have it with this—too. [Draws.

Hau. Why look you [Haunce runs away, Lovis stays 297 him.] here now, here’s damn’d doings. For my part, I declare it here upon my Death-bed, I am forc’d to what I do, and you kill me against my Will.

Alon. Do’st think we are not discover’d in our Design? I’d kill the Dog if I thought we were.

Lov. I believe not; and perceive by my Sister’s Message, that we are to come to her, and prevent this Fellow’s marrying her.

Alon. Well, Sir, I’ll spare your Life, and give your Mistress leave to marry to night.

Hau. How, Sir, to Night?—But is he in earnest, Lovis?

Lov. In very good earnest.

Hau. Tan, ta, ra, ra, ra—hay, Boys, what a Night we’ll have on’t, Gload, for Fiddles and Dancing.

Alon. Tell your Mistress I will dispatch a little Affair, and wait on her.

Gload. And pray, Sir, may I have leave to marry the Maid too?

Alon. We’ll consider on’t.

Hau. I am not such a Fool to venture tho, till I know the Coast is clear, for his very Looks are terrible; but go you, Gload, and tell her what he says. [Alonzo talks to Lovis.

Enter Hippolyta from aside.

Alon. With me, Sir?

Hip. Yes, please you to walk a little this way, Sir. [Takes him aside.

Hau. Well, make you sure of Fiddles, for look ye, we’ll appear to night like our selves.

Gload. It shall be done, Sir.

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Alon. You may command me any thing.

Hip. Sir, there is a Gentleman, if I may call him so, that dares do ill; has put a base Affront upon a Lady—a Lady whom all brave Men are bound to vindicate: I’ve writ him here a Challenge, and only beg you’ll give it him; I will attend you in St. Peter’s Grove, where I desire the perfidious Antonio (for that’s his Name, to whom this is directed) to meet me.

Alon. I’m pleas’d to see this Gallantry in a Man so young, and will serve you in this, or whatever else you shall command. But where is this Antonio?

Hip. That I’ll inquire of these. Sir, pray can you give any account of the Cavalier [To Haunce, who starts as afraid.] you fought with this Morning in St. Peter’s Grove, that had a Lady with him?

Hau. So, now perhaps I shall be hang’d for that. [Aside.

I fight, Sir! I never fought in my Life, nor saw no Man, not I.

Gload. ’Sha, you may confess it, Sir; there’s no Law against killing in Spain.

Hip. How, have you murder’d him? [Takes hold of him.

Hau. This Rogue has a mind to have me dispatch’d. [Aside.

Hold, Sir, the Man’s as well and alive as you are, and is now at my Lodgings: look ye, here’s the Dagger I disarm’d him of—but that I do not love to boast. [Shews it.

Hip. It is the same.

Alon. Sir, I shall not fail to wait on you with the Answer I receive.

Hip. I humbly thank you, Sir.

Alon. So prithee, dear Lovis, go make my excuse to your Sister for a moment, and let her get all things ready against I come; let the Priest too wait, for I see my Destiny, which I can no longer prevent, draws on apace. [Exit Lovis.

Come, Sir, you must conduct me to Antonio.

[Exeunt Alonzo, Haunce, and Gload.

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Scene III. A deep Grove.

Enter Marcel alone.

Enter Hippolyta.

Young Man, hast thou encounter’d none within this Grove?

Hip. Not any, Sir,—Marcel! my injur’d Brother!

Mar. Why dost thou turn away, and hide thy Face?

Hip. ’Tis not my Face I hide, but Sorrow there. [Weeps.

Hip. If the Ingrate for whom I grieve had thought so, I might have spar’d my Tears. Farewel, Sir.

Mar. Stay, hast thou been a Lover?

Hip. A very, very passionate one.

Mar. And wert thou not belov’d?

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Hip. At first, to draw me in, the cunning Artist Made me believe I was.

[Hollowing within.] So ho, ho, so ho, ho—

Enter Silvio.

Mar. ’Tis Silvio.

Silv. You see I have obey’d you, Sir.

Mar. Come, Sir, your Sword.

Silv. Your Reason, Sir, and I’m ready, if it be just.

Silv. Surely he knows my Passion for Cleonte— [Aside.

I urge the Reason still.

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Silv. ’Tis so—’tis true, Marcel, I rudely did intrude—

Mar. Oh, quickly haste—this looks like Women’s jangling. [Offers to fight again.

Silv. Oh yes, I am belov’d.

Mar. Then once again thou hast debauch’d my Pity. [Takes to his Sword.

[They fight: Enter Alonzo, and parts them.

Alon. How now, what’s here to do! Marcel?

Mar. Alonzo! the only Man I wish to shun.

Silv. I’m glad, who e’er thou be’st thou hast prevented us.

Alon. Thou hast more Wit than he, then I find: Your Quarrel, Sir, may a Man have leave to enquire into’t?

Mar. This is that Silvio, that noble Youth my Brother, whom thou hast often heard me name.

Alon. An excellent Character for an Enemy, Noble, and Brother: For shame put up your Swords, and I’ll be Judge between ye.

Mar. The Case is soon decided; I will not tell you with how tedious a Courtship I won the Heart, as I thought, of a young Beauty of this Town—and yesterday receiv’d a Billet from her, to wait on her at night, to receive the recompence of all my Pains and Sufferings—In this extasy of Joy I show’d him the Paper; and he getting thither before me, rob’d me of my Prize.

Silv. I am so pleas’d at this mistake of thine, I can forgive it freely.

Mar. Not content with this, most treacherously, hid in the shades of Night, he met me in the Hall of this false Woman, and stab’d me, which did secure his flight with her; and wouldst thou have me put this Injury up?

Mar. Thou?

Alon. I, am I so unlikely a Man to do such a feat?

Mar. How dare you, Sir, do this?

Alon. I dare do any thing, but break my Word, as thou hast basely done with me—But I am now in haste, and should be glad to know where to meet you anon.

Mar. I’ll wait on you at the farther side of this Grove by the River.

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Alon. I will not fail you— [Ex. Alonzo.

Mar. Come, Sir, till I can better prove you are my Rival, I will believe you are my Friend and Brother.

Enter again Hippolyta from out of the Wood.

Hip. I wonder this Cavalier stays so long,
Pray Heaven he meet Antonio.

Enter Alonzo.

Your Servant, Sir.

Alon. The Cavalier to whom you sent me, Sir, Will wait upon you here.

Hip. I humbly thank you, Sir, and should be glad to know how I might pay my Gratitude.

Alon. My Duty ends not here; I have a Sword to serve you.

Hip. You shame me with this Generosity; but, Sir, I hope my own will be sufficient in so good a Cause.

Alon. Tho you are young, I question not your Bravery; But I must beg to stay and see fair play, And offer you my Service when you’ve done.

Hip. The Enemy appears, Sir,—and since you are so good, I beg you would retire behind those Trees; for if he see us both, since he is single, he will suspect some treachery.

Alon. You’ve reason, Sir, and I’ll obey you. [Goes aside.

Enter Antonio reading a Paper.

SIR,

I do desire you to meet me in St. Peter’s Grove, with your Sword in your Hand, about an Hour hence; you will guess my Business, when you know my name to be

Alonzo.

Alon. How’s that? [Aside.

[Goes forward, sees Hippolyta, who justles him in passing by; he stops and looks.

Hip. You seem, Sir, to be he whom I expect.

Ant. I’m call’d Antonio, Sir—

Alon. Who the Devil’s that young Bully that takes my Name, and my Concerns upon him? [Aside.

Ant. I’m ready, Sir, to justify the Deed.

[They offer to fight, Alonzo steps forth.

Ant. Come, Sir, I care not which of you’s Alonzo. [They go to fight, she holds Alonzo.

[As Alonzo fights with one Hand, he keeps her off with t’other; she presses still forward on Antonio with her Sword, indeavouring to keep back Alonzo.

Enter to them Marcel.

Mar. Sure I heard the Noise of Swords this way! [Draws.

Hah, two against one! Courage, Sir. [To Antonio.

[They fight all four, Marcel with Hippolyta whom he wounds, and Alonzo with Antonio, who is disarmed.

Hip. Good Heaven, how just thou art!

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Mar. What, dost thou faint already?—Hah, the pretty talking Youth I saw but now! [Runs to her, and holds her up.

Alas, how dost thou?

Hip. Well, since thy Hand has wounded me—

Alon. I give it thee— [Gives him his Sword.

Alon. His that was once thy Friend, Marcel.

Mar. Oh! dost thou know my Shame? [Turns away.

Mar. Thou knowst too much to think I’ve injur’d thee.

Mar. By this he should not know my Sister’s Shame. [Aside.

Oh, Sir, you must not have Hippolyta.

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Mar. I credit thee, and leave thee to their Mercy.

Ant. My Life, Sir, is Security for both.

Ant. Lean on my Arm, my dearest.

308

ACT V.

Scene I. A Garden.

Enter Cleonte, Clarinda weeping, and Dormida and Francisca.

Clar. The Gods reward your Bounty, fair Cleonte.

Dor. I, I, Madam, I beseech you make our Peace with my good Lady her Mother, whatsoever becomes of the rest, for she’ll e’en die with Grief— [Weeps.

Cleo. Alas, had you a Brother once? [To Clarinda.

Clar. Madam, I might have had: but he was lost e’er I was born.

Cleo. Ah! would my Silvio had been so. [Aside.

By what strange Accident, Clarinda?

Dor. Madam, I can inform you best. [Puts herself between.

Cleo. Do then, Dormida.

Dor. Madam, you must know, my Lady Octavia, for that’s her name, was in her Youth the very Flower of Beauty and Vertue: Oh such a Face and Shape! had you but seen her—And tho I say it, Madam, I thought my self too somebody then.

Clar. Thou art tedious: Madam, ’tis true my Mother had the Reputation of both those Attractions, which gain’d her many Lovers: amongst the rest, Don Manuel, and Don Alonzo, were most worthy her Esteem.

Dor. Ay, Madam, Don Alonzo, there was a Man for you, so obliging and so bountiful—Well, I’ll give you 309 Argument of both to me: for you must know I was a Beauty then, and worth obliging. [Puts herself between.

And he was the Man my Lady lov’d, tho Don Manuel were the richer: but to my own Story—

Cleo. Forward, Clarinda.

Dor. Ay, Madam; but had you seen Don Alonzo’s Rage, and how my Lady took this Disappointment—But I who was very young, and very pretty, as I told you before—

Cleo. I guess the Grief the Parents must sustain.

To her afflicted Mother: But as I told you, Madam, I was then in my Prime—

Cleo. Francisca, see who it is that knocks so hastily. [One knocks.

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Franc. Oh, Madam, ’tis Don Marcel leading a wounded Man.

Cleo. Oh my Fears, ’tis Silvio!

Franc. ’Tis not Don Silvio.

Enter Marcel, leading Hippolyta wounded, followed by Alonzo and Pedro.

Cleo. Alas, what Youth is this you lead all bleeding?

Mar. One that deserves your Care; where’s my Father?

Cleo. Not yet return’d.

Mar. ’Tis well; and you, Sir, I must confine till I know how to satisfy my Honour, and that of my wrong’d Sister. [To Antonio.

Hip. I fear, Antonio, still thou dost dissemble.

Mar. I will secure your fear—Francisca, send for Father Joseph to me, and conduct these Gentlemen to the Lodgings next the Garden.

[Exeunt Francisca, Antonio and Hippolyta.

Alon. Prithee, Marcel, are thee and I awake, or do we dream? thou, that thou art in thy Father’s House; and I, that I see those two fair Women there? Pray, lovely Fugitive, how came you hither? [To Clarinda.

Cleo. Yes surely, Sir; for ’twere pity you should have bestow’d your Heart on a Shadow, and I well remember you gave it one of us last Night.

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Alon. A Dream, a Dream! but are you indeed the same fair Person, and is this the same House too?

Cleo. I am afraid your Heart’s not worth the keeping, since you took no better notice where you dispos’d of it.

Alon. Faith, Madam, your wrong a poor Lover, who has languish’d in search of it all this live-long day.

Cleo. Brother, I beseech you, receive the innocent Clarinda, who, I fear, will have the greatest Cause of Complaint against you. [To Marcel. Gives him to Clarinda.

Alon. But pray, fair one, let you and I talk a little about that same Heart you put me in mind of just now. [To Cleonte, with whom he seems to talk.

Ped. Surely that’s my old Mistress, Dormida; twenty years has not made so great an Alteration in that ill-favour’d Face of hers, but I can find a Lover there.

[Goes to her, they seem to talk earnestly, and sometimes pleasantly, pointing to Clarinda.

Ped. This is News indeed; ’tis fit I keep this Secret no longer from my Master. Don Manuel being dead, my Vow’s expir’d. [Aside.]

[Pedro goes to Alonzo.

Clar. And do you mean no more to love me then?

Mar. In spite of me, above my Sense or Being.

Clar. And yet you’ll marry Flavia.

Mar. Against my Will I must, or lose a Father.

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Clar. Then I must die, Marcel.

Mar. Do not unman my Soul, it is too weak To bear the Weight of fair Clarinda’s Tears. [Weeps.

Alon. Why was this Secret kept from me so long?

Ped. I was oblig’d by Vow, Sir, to Don Alonzo, my dead Master, not to restore you till Don Manuel’s Death; believing it a Happiness too great for his Rival, for so he was upon your Mother’s score.

Alon. Have I a Mother living?

Ped. Here in Madrid, Sir, and that fair Maid’s your Sister. [Pointing to Clarinda.

Alon. I scarce can credit thee, but that I know thee honest.

Ped. To confirm that belief, Sir, here are the Writings of twelve thousand Crowns a Year, left you by your Foster-Father the brave Alonzo, whose Name he gave you too. [Gives him Papers, he reads.

Alon. I am convinc’d—How now, Marcel, what all in Tears? why, who the Devil would love in earnest?
Come, come, make me Judge between you.

Mar. You’ll soon decide it then, my Heart’s Clarinda’s; But my forc’d Vows are given to another.

Alon. Vows! dost think the Gods regard the Vows of Lovers? they are things made in necessity, and ought not to be kept, nor punish’d when broken; if they were—Heaven have mercy on me poor Sinner.

Enter Ambrosio.

Mar. My Father return’d! [Bows, and goes to him, and then leads Alonzo to him.

Sir, this is the gallant Man that was design’d to be your Son-in-Law.

Amb. And that you were not so, Sir, was my misfortune only.

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Mar. To convince you of that, Alonzo, I know my Father will bestow this other Sister on you; more fair and young, and equally as rich. [Ambrosio calls Marcel aside.

Alon. How, his Sister! Fool that I was, I could not guess at this; and now have I been lying and swearing all this while how much I lov’d her. Well, take one time with another, a Man falls into more Danger by this amorous Humour, than he gets good turns by it.

Mar. Pardon me, Sir, I knew not you had design’d her elsewhere—Dear Alonzo, my Father—

Alon. Ay, Sir, I am much oblig’d to him. Oh Pox, would I were well with Euphemia.

Mar. I protest I could wish—

Alon. Ay, so could I, Sir, that you had made a better Judgment of my Humour: All must out, I have no other way to avoid this Compliment else. Why look ye, Marcel—Your Sister is—Pox, I am ill at Dissimulation, and therefore in plain Terms, I am to be married this very Evening to another.

Mar. This was happy, and has sav’d me an Excuse. [Aside.

But are you in earnest, How is it possible, being so lately come into Madrid?

Alon. Destiny, Destiny, Marcel, which there was no avoiding, tho I mist of Hippolyta.

Mar. Who is it, prithee?

Alon. A Woman I hope, of which indeed I would have been better assur’d; but she was wilful. She’s call’d Euphemia.

Mar. Our next Neighbour, the Daughter of old Carlo.

Alon. The same.

Mar. Thou art happy to make so good a Progress in so short a time, but I am—

Alon. Not so miserable as you believe. Come, come, you shall marry Clarinda.

Mar. ’Tis impossible.

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Alon. Where’s the hindrance?

Mar. Her want of Fortune; that’s enough, Friend.

Alon. Stand by and expect the best— [Goes to Ambrosio.

Sir, I have an humble Suit to you.

Amb. I shall be infinitely pleas’d you could ask me any thing in my Power; but, Sir, this Daughter I had dispos’d of, before I knew you would have mist of Hippolyta.

Alon. Luckier than I expected. [Aside.

Sir, that was an Honour I could not merit, and am contented with my Fate: But my Request is, that you would receive into your Family a Sister of mine, whom I would bestow on Don Marcel.

Mar. Hah, what mean you, Sir? a Sister of yours?

Alon. Yes, she will not be unwelcome—This is she.

Amb. This is the Daughter to Octavia—Her Mother was a Lady whom once I did adore, and ’twas her fault she was not more happy with me, than with Don Manuel. Nor have I so wholly forgot that Flame, but I might be inclin’d to your Proposal: But, Sir, she wants a Fortune.

Alon. That I’ll supply.

Mar. You supply, Sir? On what kind Score, I pray?

Alon. That which you’ll suffer without being jealous, When you shall know she is indeed my Sister.

Clar. How! this brave Man my Brother?

Alon. So they tell me, and that my Name is Manuel. Had you not such a Brother?

Dor. Oh ye Gods, is this the little Manuel?

Ped. Yes, Dormida, and for a farther Proof see this. [Opens his Master’s Bosom and shews a Crucifix.

Amb. I’ve lost the Hopes of her—She’s not to be reconcil’d. [Aside.

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Mar. And I with Joys unutterable take her.

Alon. Pedro, there rests no more than that you wait on my Mother, and let her know all that has happen’d to my self and Sister, and that I’ll pay my Duty to her e’er I sleep.

Dor. The very Joy to find her Son again, will get my Pardon too: and then perhaps Pedro and I may renew our old Amours.

Alon. Sir, I have another Request to make.

Amb. You must command, Sir.

Alon. That is, that you will permit this fair Company to honour me this Evening at my Father-in-law’s, Don Carlo.

Amb. How, has Don Carlo married the Lady Octavia?

Alon. No, Sir, but a worse matter than that, I am to marry his Daughter.

Amb. Oh, Sir, Euphemia has too much Beauty and Virtue to make you doubt your Happiness.

Alon. Well, Sir, I must venture that. But your Company I’ll expect, the Ladies may clap on their Vizards, and make a masquerading Night on’t: tho such Freedoms are not very usual in Spain, we that have seen the World, may absolve one another.

Amb. My Garden joins to that of Don Carlo, and that way we will wait on you, as soon as I have dispatcht a small Affair.

Alon. Your humble servant, Sir. [Goes out; Ambrosio the other way.

Mar. Sister, go you and prepare my Father to receive Hippolyta, whilst I go see them married.

[Exeunt Cleonte and Clarinda.

[Marcel passing over the Garden, sees Silvio enter in Passion, followed by Francisca.

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Mar. Hah, Silvio! unseen I’ll hear the Business. [Goes aside.

Silv. Oh quickly speak! What Happiness design’d me?

Franc. To admit you, Sir, this Night into her Chamber.

Mar. Death to my Soul! What’s this? [Aside.

Mar. Oh cursed Witch! [Aside.

Franc. What say you, Sir?

Franc. Why do you go, before you answer me? [Follows him into the Garden.

Enter again Silvio melancholy, followed by Francisca.

Franc. Alas, I fear I have done ill in this. [Aside.

Franc. How, kill her, Sir? Gods, what have I done! [Aside.

Franc. Consider, Sir, it is to save your Life she does it.

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Enter Marcel from amongst the Trees softly with his Dagger behind Silvio.

Mar. Oh, here they are—

Franc. My Lord, defend your self, your are undone else.

Silv. Hah, Marcel! [Draws.

Franc. Help, help.

Mar. Hell take thy Throat.

Enter Ambrosio, Clarinda, Cleonte, and the rest of the House.

Mar. But, Sir, he does not love her as a Sister.

Amb. If that be all his Crime, I still forgive him.

Cleo. What mean you by this Desperation?

Silv. Oh, take away this Woman from my sight. [Pointing to Cleonte.

For she will finish what this has ill begun. [Holds his Dagger up.

Silv. My Sister innocent! how soon I do believe thee!

Franc. Yes, Sir, nor knows of that vile Message which I brought you.

Silv. What Devil set thee on to tempt me then?

Mar. Oh sinful Woman, what was thy Design?

Cleo. What means all this? [Aside.

Silv. Low at your Feet I do implore it, Sir. [Kneels.

Amb. Your Quality forbids this Ceremony. [Takes him up.

Silv. How, Sir!

Amb. Your Father was the mighty Favourite, the Count d’Olivarez; your Mother, Spain’s celebrated Beauty, Donna Margarita Spiniola, by whom your Father had two natural Sons, Don Lovis de Harro, and your self Don Roderigo. The Story of his Disgrace, you know, with all the World; 320 ’twas then he being banisht from the Court, he left you to my Care then very young. I receiv’d you as my own, and as more than such educated you, and as your Father oblig’d me to do, brought you always up about their Majesties; for he hoped, if you had Beauty and Merits, you might inherit part of that Glory he lost.

Mar. This is wondrous.

Amb. This Truth you had not known so soon, had you not made as great an Interest at Court as any Man so young ever did, and if I had not acquitted my self in all Points as became the Friend of so great and brave a Man, as Count d’Olivarez: the Fortune he left you was two Millions of Crowns.

Silv. Let me embrace your feet for this blest News. Is not the fair Cleonte then my Sister?

Amb. No, Sir, but one whom long since I design’d your Wife, if you are pleas’d to think her worthy of it. [Offers her.

Amb. What say you, Cleonte?

Cleo. Sir, I must own a Joy greater than is fit for a Virgin to express.

Mar. Generous Don Roderigo, receive me as your Friend, and pardon all the Fault you found in me as a Brother. [Embraces him.

Silv. Be ever dear unto my Soul, Marcel.

Mar. Now is the time to present Hippolyta and Antonio to my Father, whilst his Humour is so good. And you, dear Brother, I must beg to join with us in so just a Cause.

Silv. You need not doubt my Power, and less my Will.

Mar. Do you prepare him then, whilst I bring them in: for by this I know my Confessor has made them one. [Exit Marcel.

Silv. Sir, I’ve a Suit to you.

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Amb. You cannot ask what I can deny.

Silv. Hippolyta, Sir, is married to Antonio, And humbly begs your Pardon for her past fault.

Amb. Antonio and Hippolyta! oh, name them not.

Enter Antonio and Hippolyta, a Fryar, and Marcel.

Amb. How cam’st thou then to treat her so inhumanly?

Franc. But, Madam, have you fully pardon’d me?

Silv. We will all join in your behalf, Francisco.

Cleo. I can forgive you, when you can repent. [Exeunt.

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Scene II. Carlo’s House.

Enter Olinda and Dorice.

Olin. But is the Bride-Chamber drest up, and the Bed made as it ought to be?

Dor. As for the making, ’tis as it use to be, only the Velvet Furniture.

Olin. As it use to be? Oh ignorance! I see these young Wenches are not arriv’d yet to bare Imagination: Well, I must order it my self, I see that.

Dor. Why, Olinda, I hope they will not go just to Bed upon their marrying, without some signs of a Wedding, as Fiddles, and Dancing, and so forth.

Olin. Good Lord, what Joys you have found out for the first Night of a young Bride and Bridegroom. Fiddles and Dancing, ha, ha, ha! they’ll be much merrier by themselves, than Fiddles and Dancing can make them, you Fool.

Enter Haunce and Gload.

Bless me! what is’t I see! [Stares on Haunce.

Hau. Why! what the Devil means she? look about me, Gload, and see what I have that’s so terrible.

Olin. Oh, I have no Power to stir, it is a Sprite.

Hau. What does she mean now, Gload?

Glo. She desires to be satisfy’d whether we be Flesh and Blood, Sir, I believe.

Hau. Do’st see nothing that’s Devil-wise about me?

Glo. No, indeed, Sir, not I.

Hau. Why then the Wench is tippled, that’s all, a small Fault.

Olin. O, in the name of Goodness, Sir, what are you?

Glo. Ay, Ay, Sir, ’tis that she desires to know.

Olin. Who are you, Sir?

Hau. Why who should I be, but he that’s to be your Master anon?

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Glo. Yes, who should he be but Myn heer Haunce van Ezel?

Olin. What, did you come in at the Door?

Hau. Yes, marry did I; what, do you think I creep in like a Lapland Witch through the Key-holes?

Dor. Nay, nay, this cannot be the Bridegroom.

Olin. No, for ’tis but a moment since we left him, you know, in my Lady’s Chamber.

Hau. Very drunk, by this good Light.

Dor. And therefore it cannot be Myn heer Haunce.

Hau. What a Devil will you persuade me out of my Christian Name?

Olin. The Priest has yet scarce done his Office, who is marrying him above to my Lady.

Hau. Salerimente, here’s brave doing, to marry me, and never give me notice; or thou art damnable drunk, or very mad.

Glo. Yes, and I am married to you too, am I not? [To Olinda.

Olin. You? we know neither of you.

Hau. Ha, ha, ha, here’s a turn for you.

Enter Carlo.

Car. Why, Olinda, Dorice, Olinda, where be these mad Girls? ’tis almost Night, and nothing in Order. Why, what now? Who’s here?

Hau. So the old Man’s possest too—Why, what a Devil ails you, Sir? [Goes roughly to him.

Car. From whence come you, Sir? and what are you?

Hau. Gload, let’s be gone, for we shall be transmigrated into some strange Shapes anon, for all the House is inchanted. Who am I, quoth ye? before I came you all knew me; and now you are very well acquainted with me, you have forgot me.

Car. If you be my Son Haunce, how came you here?

Hau. If I be your Son Haunce, where should I be else?

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Car. Above with your Wife, not below amongst the Maids.

Hau. What Wife? what Wife? Ha, ha, ha, do not provoke me, lest I take you a slap in the Face, I tell you that now.

Car. Oh, I find by his Humour this is he, and I am finely cheated and abus’d. I’ll up and know the Truth. [Goes out.

Hau. And so will I. [Follows.

Glo. Why, but Mistress Olinda, you have not, indeed, forgot me, have you?

Olin. For my Lover I have, but perhaps I may call you to mind, as my Servant hereafter.

Glo. Since you are so proud and so fickle, you shall stand hereafter as a Cypher with me; and I’ll begin upon a new Account with this pretty Maid: what say you forsooth?

Dor. I am willing enough to get a Husband as young as I am.

Glo. Why, that’s well said, give your Hand upon the Bargain—God-ha’-Mercy, with all my Heart, i’faith. [Go in.

[Scene draws off, discovers a Chamber. Enter Alonzo, Euphemia, and Lovis; to them Carlo, Haunce, and the rest.

Car. Oh, I am cheated, undone, abus’d.

Lov. How, Sir, and where?

[Haunce sees Alonzo drest like him, goes gazing about him, and on himself, calling Gload to do the same.

Car. Nay, I know not how, or where; but so I am: and when I find it, I’ll turn you all out of Doors. Who are you, Sir? quickly tell me.

Alon. If you be in such haste, take the shortest Account, I am your Son.

Car. I mean, Sir, what’s your Name, and which of you is Haunce van Ezel?

Hau. Ay, which of us is Haunce van Ezel? tell us that, Sir; we shall handle ye i’faith now—

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Alon. He, Sir, can best inform you. [Pointing to Haunce.

Hau. Who, I! I know no more than the great Turk, not I, which of us is me; my Hat, my Feather, my Suit, and my Garniture all over, faith now; and I believe this is me, for I’ll trust my Eyes before any other Sense about me. What say’st thou now, Gload? guess which of us is thy own natural Master now if thou canst.

Glo. Which, Sir?—why—let me see—let me see, [Turns them both about.

fakes, I cannot tell, Sir.

Car. Come, come, the Cheat is plain, and I’ll not be fobb’d off, therefore tell me who you are, Sir. [To Alonzo.

Alon. One that was very unwilling to have put this Trick upon you, if I could have persuaded Euphemia to have been kind on any other Terms, but nothing would down with her but Matrimony.

Car. How long have you known her?

Alon. Faith, Sir, too long by at least an Hour.

Car. I say again, what are you, Sir?

Alon. A Man I am, and they call me Alonzo.

Car. How! I hope not the great fighting Colonel whom my Son serv’d as a Voluntier in Flanders.

Alon. Even he, Sir.

Car. Worse and worse, I shall grow mad, to think that in spite of all my Care, Euphemia should marry with so notorious a Man of War.

Hau. How! is this Alonzo, and am I cozen’d? pray tell me truly, are you not me indeed?

Alon. All over, Sir, only the inside a little less Fool.

Hau. So here’s fine juggling—are not you a rare Lady, hah? [To Euphemia; crys.

Euph. I assure you, Sir, if this Man had not past for you, I had never had him.

Hau. Had him! Oh, you are a flattering thing, I durst ha’ sworn you could no more ha’ been without me, than a Barber’s Shop without a Fiddle, so I did: Oh, what a 326 damnable Voyage have I back again without a Wife too— [Crys again.

Lov. If that be all, we’ll get you one before you go; that shall be my care.

Hau. A Pox of your care: well, I will get my self most soundly drunk to Night, to be reveng’d of these two damnable Dons. Come, Gload, let us about something in order to’t. [Exit with Gload.

Euph. Pray, Sir, be persuaded, he’s worth your owning.

Car. Tell not me of owning; what Fortune has he?

Lov. His Horse and Arms, the Favour of his Prince, and his Pay.

Car. His Horse and Arms I wholly dislike, as Implements of War; and that same Princely Favour, as you call it, will buy no Lands; and his Pay he shall have when he can get it.

Lov. But, Sir, his coming to Madrid was to take possession of a Place the Prince has promis’d him.

Car. Has promis’d him? what! I shall marry my Daughter to the Promises of e’er a Prince in Christendom, shall I? No, no; Promises, quoth ye?

Alon. Well, Sir, will this satisfy you? [Gives him a Parchment.

Euph. If it should not, let us consider what next to do.

Alon. No consideration, Euphemia; not so much as that we are married, lest it lessen our Joys.

Car. Twelve thousand Crowns a Year!—Sir, I cry you mercy, and wish you joy with my Daughter.

Lov. So his Courage will down with him now.

Alon. To satisfy you farther, Sir, read this. [Gives him another Paper.

And now, Euphemia, prepare your self to receive some gallant Friends of mine, whom you must be acquainted with, and who design to make a merry Night on’t.

Euph. A whole Night, Alonzo?

Alon. By no means, Euphemia, for the first too, which 327 if the thoughts of its being part of my Duty do not hinder, will be a pleasant enough to me.

Car. So considerable an Office at Court too!—Let me imbrace you, Sir; and tell you how happy I am in so brave Son-in-law.

Alon. With that assurance, Sir, I’ll take a more than ordinary freedom with you, and teach Euphemia a franker way of living, than what a native Spaniard would have allow’d her.

Car. She shall be what sort of Wife you’ll have her.

Enter Servant, after a noise of Musick.

Alon. What Musick’s that?

Serv. It waits upon some Ladies and Gentlemen who ask for you, Sir.

Alon. Wait them in, they are those Friends of mine I told you of. [He goes and brings them in.

Enter Marcel and Clarinda, Silvio and Cleonte, Antonio and Hippolyta, Dormida and Francisca; all salute Euphemia.

Enter Haunce and Gload in Masquerade to the Company, Olinda and Dorice masked.

Hau. Well, the Devil’s in’t if we shall not appear ridiculous enough, hah, Gload?

Glo. Ay, Sir, the more ridiculous the better.

Hau. I was always of that mind.—Ha, ha, Boys, who be all these Dons and Donnas?—Harkye, Lovis, I hope the Wife you promis’d me is amongst these fair Ladies, for so I guess they are both, fair and Ladies.

Lov. You guess right, Sir.

Alon. Now, Ladies and Gentlemen, command your Musick, and do what likes you best.

Lov. Here’s the Lady I recommend to you, take her, Sir, be thankful. [Gives him Olinda.

Olin. This is the Fool that I am to manage.

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Dor. And this is my Lot. [Takes Gload.

[Musick plays, they all dance.

Lov. There is within a young Father ready to join your Hands: take this opportunity, and make sure of a Wife.

Hau. I warrant you, Sir.

[Exeunt Haunce, Olinda, Gload, and Dorice.

Enter Pedro.

Ped. Your Mother, Sir, whom I found more dead than living, for the loss of your Sister, was very near dying outright with Joy, to hear of your Arrival, and most impatiently expects you.

Dorm. And are we all forgiven, Pedro?

Ped. Yes, you and I are like to be Fellow-Servants together again, Dormida.

Dorm. And Fellow-Lovers too I hope, Pedro.

Ped. The Devil’s in’t if Age have not allay’d Flames of all sorts in thee; but if you contribute to my allowance—

Dorm. Thou know’st I could never keep any thing from thee, Pedro.

Alon. Come, Ladies, there is a small Banquet attends you in the next Room.

Silv. We’ll wait on you, Sir.

Enter Haunce, Gload, Olinda, and Dorice.

Hau. Hold, hold, and give me Joy too, for I am married, if she has not mistaken her Man again, and I my Woman.

Olin. No, you are the Man I look for, and I no Cheat, having all about me that you look for too, but Money. [Discovers her self.

Alon. How, Olinda!

Olin. Yes, indeed, Sir, I serv’d my Lady first, and then thought it no Offence to take the Reward due to that Service.

Hau. Here’s a Spanish Trick for you now, to marry a Wife, before one sees her.

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Euph. What, Dorice married too?

Dor. After your Example, Madam.

Glo. Yes, indeed, forsooth, and I have made bold too after the Example of my Master.

Hau. Now do they all expect I should be dissatisfied; but, Gentlemen, in sign and token that I am not, I’ll have one more merry Frisk before we part, ’tis a witty Wench; faith and troth, after a Month ’tis all one who’s who; therefore come on, Gload. [They dance together.

Alon. Monsieur Haunce, I see you are a Man of Gallantry. Come let us in, I know every Man here desires to make this Night his own, and sacrifice it to Pleasure.

EPILOGUE

THE ROUND-HEADS;
or, the Good Old Cause.

PROLOGUE,

Spoken by the Ghost of Hewson ascending from Hell dress’d as a Cobler.

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ACT I.

Scene I. The Street.

Enter three Soldiers, and Corporal Right.

Cor. Ah, Rogue, the World runs finely round, the business is done.

1 Sold. Done! the Town’s our own, my fine Rascal.

2 Sold. We’ll have Harlots by the Belly, Sirrah.

1 Sold. Those are Commodities I confess I wou’d fain be trucking for—but no words of that, Boy.

Cor. Stand, who goes there?

[To them a Joyner and a Felt-maker.

1 Sold. Who are you for?—hah!

Joy. Are for, Friend? we are for Gad and the Lord Fleetwood.

1 Sold. Fleetwood! knock ’em down, Fleetwood, that sniveling Thief?

Felt. Why, Friends, who are ye for?

Cor. For! who shou’d we be for, but Lambert, Noble Lambert? Is this a time o’th’ day to declare for Fleetwood, with a Pox? indeed, i’th’ Morning ’twas a Question had like to have been decided with push a Pike.

2 Sold. Dry blows wou’d ne’er ha’ don’t, some must have sweat Blood for’t; but—’tis now decided.

Joy. Decided!

2 Sold. Yes, decided, Sir, without your Rule for’t.

Joy. Decided! by whom, Sir? by us the Free-born Subjects of England, by the Honourable Committee of Safety, or the Right Reverend City? without which, Sir, I humbly conceive, your Declaration for Lambert is illegal, and against the Property of the People.

2 Sold. Plain Lambert; here’s a saucy Dog of a Joyner; 345 Sirrah, get ye home, and mind your Trade, and save the Hangman a labour.

Joy. Look ye, Friend, I fear no Hang-man in Christendom; for Conscience and Publick Good, for Liberty and Property, I dare as far as any Man.

2 Sold. Liberty and Property, with a Pox, in the Mouth of a Joyner: you are a pretty Fellow to settle the Nation—what says my Neighbour Felt-maker?

Felt. Why, verily, I have a high respect for my honourable Lord Fleetwood, he is my intimate Friend; and till I find his Party the weaker, I hope my Zeal will be strengthned for him.

2 Sold. Zeal for Fleetwood! Zeal for a Halter, and that’s your due: Why, what has he ever done for you? Can he lead you out to Battle? Can he silence the very Cannon with his Eloquence alone?—Can he talk—or fight—or—

Felt. But verily he can pay those that can, and that’s as good—and he can pray—

2 Sold. Let him pray, and we’ll fight, and see whose business is done first; we are for the General who carries Charms in every Syllable; can act both the Soldier and the Courtier, at once expose his Breast to Dangers for our sakes—and tell the rest of the pretended Slaves a fair Tale, but hang ’em sooner than trust ’em.

1 Sold. Ay, ay, a Lambert, a Lambert, he has Courage, Fleetwood’s an Ass to him.

Felt. Hum—here’s Reason, Neighbour. [To the Joyner.

Joy. That’s all one, we do not act by Reason.

Cor. Fleetwood’s a Coward.

2 Sold. A Blockhead.

1 Sold. A sniveling Fool; a General in the Hangings, no better.

Joy. What think you then of Vane?

2 Sold. As of a Fool, that has dreamt of a new Religion, and is only fit to reign in the Fifth Monarchy he preaches so much up? but no King in this Age.

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Felt. What of Haslerig?

2 Sold. A Hangman for Haslerig. I cry, No, no, One and all, a Lambert, a Lambert; he is our General, our Protector, our Keiser, our—even what he pleases himself.

1 Sold. Well, if he pleases himself, he pleases me.

2 Sold. He’s our Rising Sun, and we’ll adore him, for the Speaker’s Glory’s set.

Cor. At nought, Boys; how the Rogue look’d when his Coach was stop’d!

Joy. Under favour, what said the Speaker?

2 Sold. What said he? prithee, what cou’d he say that we wou’d admit for Reason? Reason and our Bus’ness are two things: Our Will was Reason and Law too, and the Word of Command lodg’d in our Hilts: Cobbet and Duckenfield shew’d ’em Cockpit-Law.

Cor. He understood not Soldier’s Dialect; the Language of the Sword puzzled his Understanding; the Keenness of which was too sharp for his Wit, and over-rul’d his Robes—therefore he very mannerly kiss’d his Hand, and wheel’d about—

2 Sold. To the place from whence he came.

Cor. And e’er long to the place of Execution.

1 Sold. No, damn him, he’ll have his Clergy.

Joy. Why, is he such an Infidel to love the Clergy?

Cor. For his Ends; but come let’s go drink the General’s Health, Lambert; not Fleetwood, that Son of a Custard, always quaking.

2 Sold. Ay, ay, Lambert I say—besides, he’s a Gentleman.

Felt. Come, come, Brother Soldier, let me tell you, I fear you have a Stewart in your Belly.

Cor. I am sure you have a Rogue in your Heart, Sirrah, which a Man may perceive thro that sanctified Dog’s Face of yours; and so get ye gone, ye Rascals, and delude the Rabble with your canting Politicks. [Every one beats ’em.

Felt. Nay, an you be in Wrath, I’ll leave you.

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Joy. No matter, Sir, I’ll make you know I’m a Freeborn Subject, there’s Law for the Righteous, Sir, there’s Law. [Go out.

Cor. There’s Halters, ye Rogues—

2 Sold. Come, Lads, let’s to the Tavern, and drink Success to Change; I doubt not but to see ’em chop about, till it come to our great Hero again—Come to the Tavern.

[Going out, are met by Loveless and Freeman, who enter, and stay the Corporal.

Cor. I’ll follow ye, Comrade, presently.

[Ex. the rest of the Soldiers.

—Save ye, noble Colonel.

Free. How is’t, Corporal?

Cor. A brave World, Sir, full of Religion, Knavery, and Change: we shall shortly see better Days.

Free. I doubt it, Corporal.

Cor. I’ll warrant you, Sir,—but have you had never a Billet, no Present, nor Love—remembrance to day, from my good Lady Desbro?

Free. None, and wonder at it. Hast thou not seen her Page to day?

Cor. Faith, Sir, I was imploy’d in Affairs of State, by our Protector that shall be, and could not call.

Free. Protector that shall be! who’s that, Lambert, or Fleetwood, or both?

Cor. I care not which, so it be a Change; but I mean the General:—but, Sir, my Lady Desbro is now at Morning-Lecture here hard by, with the Lady Lambert.

Lov. Seeking the Lord for some great Mischief or other.

Free. We have been there, but could get no opportunity of speaking to her—Loveless, know this Fellow—he’s honest and true to the Hero, tho a Red-Coat. I trust him with my Love, and have done with my Life.

Lov. Love! Thou canst never make me believe thou art earnestly in love with any of that damn’d Reformation.

Free. Thou art a Fool; where I find Youth and Beauty, I adore, let the Saint be true or false.

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Lov. ’Tis a Scandal to one of us to converse with ’em; they are all sanctify’d Jilts; and there can neither be Credit nor Pleasure in keeping ’em company; and ’twere enough to get the Scandal of an Adherer to their devilish Politicks, to be seen with ’em.

Free. What, their Wives?

Lov. Yes, their Wives. What seest thou in ’em but Hypocrisy? Make love to ’em, they answer in Scripture.

Free. Ay, and lie with you in Scripture too. Of all Whores, give me your zealous Whore; I never heard a Woman talk much of Heaven, but she was much for the Creature too. What do’st think I had thee to the Meeting for?

Lov. To hear a Rascal hold forth for Bodkins and Thimbles, Contribution, my beloved! to carry on the good Cause, that is, Roguery, Rebellion, and Treason, profaning the sacred Majesty of Heaven, and our glorious Sovereign.

Free. But—were there not pretty Women there?

Lov. Damn ’em for sighing, groaning Hypocrites.

Free. But there was one, whom that handsome Face and Shape of yours, gave more occasion for sighing, than any Mortification caus’d by the Cant of the Lay-Elder in the half Hogs-Head: Did’st thou not mind her?

Lov. Not I, damn it, I was all Rage; and hadst not thou restrain’d me, I had certainly pull’d that Rogue of a Holder forth by the Ears from his sanctify’d Tub. ’Sdeath, he hum’d and haw’d all my Patience away, nosed and snivel’d me to Madness. Heaven! That thou shouldst suffer such Vermin to infect the Earth, such Wolves amongst thy Flocks, such Thieves and Robbers of all Laws of God and Man, in thy Holy Temples. I rave to think to what thou’rt fall’n, poor England!

Free. But the she Saint—

Lov. No more; were she as fair as Fancy could imagine, to see her there wou’d make me loath the Form; she that can listen to the dull Nonsense, the bantering of such a 349 Rogue, such an illiterate Rascal, must be a Fool, past sense of loving, Freeman.

Free. Thou art mistaken.—But, didst thou mind her next the Pulpit?

Lov. A Plague upon the whole Congregation: I minded nothing but how to fight the Lord’s Battle with that damn’d sham Parson, whom I had a mind to beat.

Free. My Lady Desbro is not of that Persuasion, but an errant Heroick in her Heart, and feigns it only to have the better occasion to serve the Royal Party. I knew her, and lov’d her before she married.

Lov. She may chance then to be sav’d.

Free. Come, I’ll have thee bear up briskly to some one of ’em, it may redeem thy Sequestration; which, now thou see’st no hopes of compounding, puts thee out of Patience.

Lov. Let ’em take it, and the Devil do ’em Good with it; I scorn it should be said I have a Foot of Land in this ungrateful and accursed Island; I’d rather beg where Laws are obey’d, and Justice perform’d, than be powerful where Rogues and base-born Rascals rule the roast.

Free. But suppose now, dear Loveless, that one of the Wives of these Pageant Lords should fall in love with thee, and get thy Estate again, or pay the double for’t?

Lov. I wou’d refuse it.

Free. And this for a little dissembl’d Love, a little Drudgery—

Lov. Not a Night, by Heaven—not an Hour—no, not a single Kiss. I’d rather make love to an Incubus.

Free. But suppose ’twere the new Protectress her self, the fine Lady Lambert?

Lov. The greatest Devil of all; damn her, do’st think I’ll cuckold the Ghost of old Oliver?

Free. The better; There’s some Revenge in’t; do’st know her?

Lov. Never saw her, nor care to do.

Cor. Colonel, do you command me any thing?

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Free. Yes, I’ll send thee with a Note—Let’s step into a Shop and write it; Loveless, stay a moment, and I’ll be with thee. [Ex. Free. and Corporal.

Enter L. Lambert, L. Desbro, Gilliflower, Pages with great Bibles, and Footmen. Loveless walks sullenly, not seeing ’em. [L. Lambert’s Train carried.

L. Lam. O, I’m impatient to know his Name; ah, Desbro, he betray’d all my Devotion; and when I would have pray’d, Heav’n knows it was to him, and for him only.

L. Des. What manner of Man was it?

L. Lam. I want Words to describe him; not tall, nor short; well made, and such a Face—

L. Des. Seem’d he a Gentleman?

L. Des. Staid he long?

Gill. Heavens, Madam, I’ll warrant they were Heroicks.

L. Lam. Heroicks!

Gill. Cavaliers, Madam, of the Royal Party.

L. Des. They were so, I knew one of ’em.

L. Lam. Ah, Desbro, do’st thou? Ah, Heav’ns, that they should prove Heroicks!

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L. Des. You might have known that by the Conquest; I never heard any one o’t’ other Party ever gain’d a Heart; and indeed, Madam, ’tis a just Revenge, our Husbands make Slaves of them, and they kill all their Wives. [Lov. sees ’em, and starts.

Lov. Hah, what have we here?—Women—faith, and handsome too—I never saw a Form more excellent; who e’er they are, they seem of Quality.—By Heav’n, I cannot take my Eyes from her. [Pointing to L. Lamb.

Gill. My Lady’s Coach, William—quickly, she faints.

Lov. Madam, can an unfortunate Stranger’s aid add any thing to the recovery of so much Beauty? [Bowing, and holding her.

L. Lam. Ah, wou’d he knew how much! [Aside.

Gill. Support her, Sir, till her Ladyship’s Coach comes—I beseech ye.

Lov. Not Atlas bore up Heaven with greater Pride.

Lov. If there be ought in me, that merits this amazing Favour from you, I owe my Thanks to Nature that endow’d me with something in my Face that spoke my Heart.

L. Lam. Heaven! How he looks and speaks— [To Desbro, aside.

L. Des. Oh, these Heroicks, Madam, have the most charming Tongues. 

L. Lam. Pray come to me—and ask for any of my Officers, and you shall have admittance—

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Lov. Who shall I ask for, Madam? for I’m yet ignorant to whom I owe for this great Bounty.

Page. It waits your Honour.

L. Lam. I give you leave to visit me—ask for the General’s Lady, if my Title be not by that time alter’d.

Lov. Pistols and Daggers to my Heart—’tis so.

L. Lam. Adieu, Sir.

[Ex. all but Lov. who stands musing.

Enter Freeman.

Free. How now, what’s the matter with thee?

Lov. Prithee wake me, Freeman.

Free. Wake thee!

Free. What ail’st thou? what did’st dream of?

Free. Who the Devil meanest thou?

Lov. By Heav’n I know not, but, as she vanish’d hence, she bad me come to the General’s.

Free. Why, this is she I told thee ey’d thee so at the Conventicle; ’tis Lambert, the renown’d, the famous Lady Lambert—Mad call’st thou her? ’tis her ill acted Greatness, thou mistak’st; thou art not us’d to the Pageantry of these Women yet: they all run thus mad; ’tis Greatness in ’em, Loveless.

Lov. And is thine thus, thy Lady Desbro?

Free. She’s of another Cut, she married, as most do, for Interest—but what—thou’t to her?

Lov. If Lightning stop my way:—

Perhaps a sober View may make me hate her. [Exeunt both.

Scene II. A Chamber in Lambert’s House.

Enter Lambert and Whitlock.

Whit. My Lord, now is your time, you may be King; Fortune is yours, you’ve time it self by th’ Fore-lock.

Lam. If I thought so, I’d hold him fast, by Heaven.

Whit. If you let slip this Opportunity, my Lord, you are undone—Aut Cæsar, aut Nullus.

Lam. But Fleetwood—

Whit. Hang him, soft Head.

Lam. True, he’s of an easy Nature; yet if thou didst but know how little Wit governs this mighty Universe, thou wou’dst not wonder Men should set up him.

Whit. That will not recommend him at this Juncto, tho he’s an excellent Tool for your Lordship to make use of; and therefore use him, Sir, as Cataline did Lentulus; drill the dull Fool with Hopes of Empire on, and that all tends to his Advancement only: The Blockhead will believe the Crown his own: What other Hopes could make him 354 ruin Richard, a Gentleman of Qualities a thousand times beyond him?

Lam. They were both too soft; an ill Commendation for a General, who should be rough as Storms of War it self.

Whit. His time was short, and yours is coming on; Old Oliver had his.

Lam. I hate the Memory of that Tyrant Oliver.

Whit. So do I, now he’s dead, and serves my Ends no more. I lov’d the Father of the great Heroick, whilst he had Power to do me good: he failing, Reason directed me to the Party then prevailing, the Fag-end of the Parliament: ’tis true, I took the Oath of Allegiance, as Oliver, your Lordship, Tony, and the rest did, without which we could not have sat in that Parliament; but that Oath was not for our Advantage, and so better broke than kept.

Lam. I am of your Opinion, my Lord.

Whit. Let Honesty and Religion preach against it. But how cou’d I have serv’d the Commons by deserting the King? how have I show’d my self loyal to your Interest, by fooling Fleet-wood, in the deserting of Dick; by dissolving the honest Parliament, and bringing in the odious Rump? how cou’d I have flatter’d Ireton, by telling him Providence brought thingsabout, when ’twas mere Knavery all; and that the Hand of the Lord was in’t, when I knew the Devil was in’t? or indeed, how cou’d I now advise you to be King, if I had started at Oaths, or preferr’d Honesty or Divinity before Interest and the Good Old Came?

Lam. Nay,’tis most certain, he that will live in this World, must be endu’d with the three rare Qualities of Dissimulation, Equivocation, and mental Reservation.

Whit. In which Excellency, Heav’n be prais’d, we out-do the Jesuits.

Enter Lady Lambert.

L. Lam. I’m glad to see you so well employ’d, my Lord, as in Discourse with my Lord Whitlock, he’s of our Party, and has Wit.

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Whit. Your Honour graces me too much.

Lam. My Lord, my Lady is an absolute States-woman.

L. Lam. Yes, I think things had not arriv’d to this exalted height, nor had you been in prospect of a Crown, had not my Politicks exceeded your meaner Ambition.

Lam. I confess, I owe all my good Fortune to thee.

Enter Page.

Page. My Lord, my Lord Wariston, Lord Hewson, Colonel Cobbet, and Colonel Duckenfield desire the Honour of waiting on you.

L. Lam. This has a Face of Greatness—let ’em wait a while i’th’ Antichamber.

Lam. My Love, I would have ’em come in.

L. Lam. You wou’d have ’em! you wou’d have a Fool’s Head of your own; pray let me be Judge of what their Duty is, and what your Glory: I say I’ll have ’em wait.

Page. My Lord Fleetwood too is just alighted, shall lie wait too, Madam?

L. Lam. He may approach: and d’ye hear—put on your fawning Looks, flatter him, and profess much Friendship to him, you may betray him with the more facility.

Whit. Madam, you counsel well. [Ex. Page.

Page re-enters with Lord Fleetwood.

Lam. My good Lord, your most submissive Servant.

Whit. My gracious Lord, I am your Creature—your Slave—

Fleet. I profess ingeniously, I am much engag’d to you, my good Lords; I hope things are now in the Lard’s handling, and will go on well for his Glory and my Interest, and that all my good People of England will do things that become good Christians.

Whit. Doubt us not, my good Lord; the Government cannot be put into abler Hands than those of your Lordship; it has hitherto been in the hard Clutches of Jews, Infidels, and Pagans.

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Fleet. Yea, verily, Abomination has been in the Hands of Iniquity.

Lam. But, my Lord, those Hands, by my good Conduct, are now cut off, and our Ambition is, your Lordship wou’d take the Government upon you.

Fleet. I profess, my Lord, by yea and nay, I am asham’d of this Goodness, in making me the Instrument of saving Grace to this Nation; ’tis the great Work of the Lard.

L. Lam. The Lard! Sir, I’ll assure you the Lard has the least Hand in your good Fortune; I think you ought to ascribe it to the Cunning and Conduct of my Lord here, who so timely abandon’d the Interest of Richard.

Fleet. Ingeniously I must own, your good Lord can do much, and has done much; but ’tis our Method to ascribe all to the Powers above.

L. Lam. Then I must tell you, your Method’s an ungrateful Method.

Lam. Peace, my Love.

Whit. Madam, this is the Cant we must delude the Rabble with.

L. Lam. Then let him use it there, my Lord, not amongst us, who so well understand one another.

Lam. Good Dear, be pacified—and tell me, shall the Gentlemen without have Admittance?

L. Lam. They may. [Page goes out.

Enter Hewson, Desbro, Duckenfield, Wariston, and Cobbet.

War. Guds Benizon light on yu, my gued Loords, for this Day’s Work; Madam, I kiss your white Honds.

Duc. My Lord, I have not been behind-hand in this Day’s turn of State.

Lam. ’Tis confess’d, Sir; what would you infer from that?

Duc. Why, I wou’d know how things go; who shall be General, who Protector?

Hews. My Friend has well translated his meaning.

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L. Lam. Fy, how that filthy Cobler Lord betrays his Function.

Duc. We’re in a Chaos, a Confusion, as we are.

Hews. Indeed the Commonwealth at present is out at Heels, and wants underlaying.

Cob. And the People expect something suddenly from us.

Whit. My Lords and Gentlemen, we must consider a while.

War. Bread a gued there’s mickle Wisdom i’that, Sirs.

Duc. It ought to be consulted betimes, my Lord, ’tis a matter of Moment, and ought to be consulted by the whole Committee.

Lam. We design no other, my Lord, for which Reason at three a Clock we’ll meet at Wallingford House.

Duc. Nay, my Lord, do but settle the Affair, let’s but know who’s our Head, and ’tis no matter.

Hews. Ay, my Lord, no matter who; I hope ’twill be Fleetwood, for I have the length of his Foot already.

Whit. You are the leading Men, Gentlemen, your Voices will soon settle the Nation.

Duc. Well, my Lord, we’ll not fail at three a Clock.

Des. This falls out well for me; for I’ve Business in Smithfield, where my Horses stand; and verily, now I think on’t, the Rogue the Ostler has not given ’em Oates to day: Well, my Lords, farewel; if I come not time enough to Wallingford House, keep me a Place in the Committee, and let my Voice stand for one, no matter who.

War. A gued Mon I’s warrant, and takes muckle Pains for the Gued o’th’ Nation, and the Liberty o’th Mobily—The Diel confound ’em aud.

Lam. Come, my Lord Wariston, you are a wise Man, what Government are you for.

War. Ene tol what ya please, my gued Loord. [Takes him aside.

Lam. What think you of a single Person here in my Lord Fleetwood?

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War. Marry, Sir, and he’s a brave Mon, but gen I may cooncel, tak’t for yar sel my gued Loord, ant be gued for him, ’tis ene gued for ya te.

Lam. But above half the Nation are for him.

War. Bread a gued, and I’s for him then.

Fleet. The Will of the Lard be done; and since ’tis his Will, I cannot withstand my Fate—ingeniously.

Whit. My Lord Wariston, a Word—What if Lambert were the Man? [Takes him aside.

War. Right Sir, Wons and ya have spoken aud; he’s a brave Mon, a Mon indeed gen I’s have any Judgment.

Whit. So I find this Property’s for any use. [Aside.

Lam. My Lord, I perceive Heaven and Earth conspire to make you our Prince.

Fleet. Ingeniously, my Lords, the Weight of three Kingdoms is a heavy Burden for so weak Parts as mine: therefore I will, before I appear at Council, go seek the Lard in this great Affair; and if I receive a Revelation for it, I shall with all Humility espouse the Yoke, for the Good of his People and mine; and so Gad with us, the Commonwealth of England. [Exeunt Fleet. Desbro, Wariston, Due. Cob. Hews, and Whit.

L. Lam. Poor deluded Wretch, ’tis not yet come to that.

Lam. No, my dear, the Voice will go clearly for me; what with Bribes to some, Hypocrisy and Pretence of Religion to others, and promis’d Preferments to the rest, I have engag’d ’em all.

L. Lam. And will you be a King?

Lam. You think that’s so fine a thing—but let me tell you, my Love, a King’s a Slave to a Protector, a King’s ty’d up to a thousand Rules of musty Law, which we can break at pleasure; we can rule without Parliaments, at least chuse whom we please, make ’em agree to our Proposals, or set a Guard upon ’em, and starve ’em till they do.

L. Lam. But their Votes are the strangest things—that they must pass for Laws; you were never voted King.

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Lam. No, nor care to be: The sharpest Sword’s my Vote, my Law, my Title. They voted Dick should reign, where is he now? They voted the great Heroicks from the Succession; but had they Arms or Men, as I have, you shou’d soon see what wou’d become of their Votes—No, my Love! ’tis this—must make me King. [His Sword.

ACT II.

Scene I. A Chamber of State in Lambert’s House.

Enter L. Lambert, Gilliflower, and Women-servants.

L. Lam. Gilliflower, has none been here to ask for any of my People, in order to his approach to me?

Gill. None, Madam.

L. Lam. Madam! How dull thou art? wo’t never learn to give me a better Title than such an one as foolish Custom bestows on every common Wench?

Gill. Pardon my Ignorance, Madam.

L. Lam. Again Madam?

Gill. Really, Madam, I shou’d be glad to know by what other Title you wou’d be distinguish’d?

L. Lam. Abominable dull! Do’st thou not know on what score my Dear is gone to Wallingford House?

Gill. I cannot divine, Madam.

L. Lam. Heaven help thy Ignorance! he’s gone to be made Protector, Fool, or at least a King, thou Creature; and from this Day I date my self her Highness.

Gill. That will be very fine indeed, an’t please your Highness.

L. Lam. I think ’twill sute better with my Person and Beauty than with the other Woman—what d’ye call her? Mrs. Cromwell—my Shape—and Gate—my Humour, 360 and my Youth have something more of Grandeur, have they not?

Gill. Infinitely, an’t please your Highness.

Enter Page.

Page. Madam, a Man without has the boldness to ask for your Honour.

L. Lam. Honour, Fool!

Gill. Her Highness, Blockhead.

Page. Saucily prest in, and struck the Porter for denying him entrance to your—Highness.

L. Lam. What kind of Fellow was’t?

Page. A rude, rough, hectoring Swash, an’t please your Highness; nay, and two or three times, Gad forgive me, he swore too.

L. Lam. It must be he. [Aside.

Page. His Habit was something bad and Cavalierish—I believe ’twas some poor petitioning, begging Tory, who having been sequester’d, wou’d press your Highness for some Favour.

L. Lam. Yes, it must be he—ah, foolish Creature! and can he hope Relief, and be a villanous Cavalier? out upon ’em, poor Wretches—you may admit him tho’, for I long to hear how one of those things talk.

Gill. Oh, most strangely, Madam—an please your Highness, I shou’d say.

Enter Loveless.

L. Lam. ’Tis he, I’ll swear, Gilliflower, these Heroicks are punctual men—how now, your Bus’ness with us, Fellow?

Lov. My Bus’ness, Madam?—

L. Lam. Hast thou ever a Petition to us?

Lov. A Petition, Madam?—Sure this put—on Greatness is to amuse her Servants, or has she forgot that she invited me? or indeed forgot me?— [Aside.

L. Lam. What art thou?

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Page. Shall we search his Breeches, an’t please your Highness, for Pistol, or other Instruments?

L. Lam. No, Boy, we fear him not, they say the Powers above protect the Persons of Princes. [Walks away.

L. Lam. Answer me. What art thou?—
How shall I get my Servants hence with Honour? [Aside.

L. Lam. You’re very confident, know you to whom you speak? but I suppose you have lost your Estate, or some such trivial thing, which makes you angry.

Lov. Yes, a trivial Estate of some five and twenty hundred Pound a Year: but I hope to see that Rogue of a Lord reduc’d to his Cobler’s-Stall again, or more deserv’dly hang’d, that has it.

L. Lam. I thought ’twas some such Grievance—but you must keep a good Tongue in your Head, lest you be hang’d for Scandalum Magnatum—there’s Law for ye, Sir.

Lov. No matter, then I shall be free from a damn’d Commonwealth, as you are pleas’d to call it, when indeed ’tis but a mungrel, mangy, Mock-Monarchy.

L. Lam. Is it your business, Sir, to rail?

Lov. You rais’d the Devil, Madam.

Page. Madam, shall I call your Highness’s Guards, and secure the Traitor?

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Lav. Madam, I waited here by your Commands.

L. Lam. How shall I tell him that I love him, Gilliflower?

Gill. Easily, Madam, tell him so in plain English. Madam,’tis great; Women of your exalted height ever speak first; you have no Equals dare pretend to speak of Love to you.

L. Lam. Thou art i’th’ right—Do’st know my Quality, and thy own Poverty? And hast thou nothing to ask that I may grant?

Lav. Sure she loves me! and I, frail Flesh and Blood, Cannot resist her Charms; but she’s of the damn’d Party. [Aside.

L. Lam. Are all your Party, Sir, so proud?

Lov. But what have I to do with Religion! Is Beauty the worse, or a kind Wench to be refus’d for Conventickling? She lives high on the Spoils of a glorious Kingdom, and why may not I live upon the Sins of the Spoiler? [Aside.

L. Lam. Sir—you are poor!

Lov. So is my Prince; a Plague on the occasion.

L. Lam. I think you are—no Fool too.

Lov. I wou’d I were, then I had been a Knave, had thriv’d, and possibly by this time had been tugging for rifled Crowns and Kingdoms.

L. Lam. This Satir ill befits my present Bus’ness with you—you—want some Necessaries—as Clothes, and Linen too; and ’tis great pity so proper a Man shou’d want Necessaries. Gilliflower—take my Cabinet Key, and fetch the Purse of Broad-pieces that lies in the lower Drawer; ’tis a small Present, Sir, but ’tis an Earnest of my farther Service. [Gill. goes out and returns with a Purse.

Lov. I’m angry, that I find one Grain of Generosity in this whole Race of Hypocrites. [Aside.

L. Lam. Here, Sir,’tis only for your present use; for Clothes—three hundred Pieces; let me see you sweet—

Lov. Stark mad, by this good Day.

L. Lam. Ah, Gilliflower! How prettily those Cavalier 363 things charm; I wonder how the Powers above came to give them all the Wit, Softness, and Gallantry—whilst all the great ones of our Age have the most slovenly, ungrateful, dull Behaviour; no Air, no Wit, no Love, nor any thing to please a Lady with.

Gill. Truly, Madam, there’s a great Difference in the Men; yet Heaven at first did its part, but the Devil has since so over-done his, that what with the Vizor of Sanctity, which is the gadly Sneer, the drawing of the Face to a prodigious length, the formal Language, with a certain Twang through the Nose, and the pious Gogle, they are fitter to scare Children than beget love in Ladies.

Lav. You hit the Character of your new Saint.

L. Lam. And then their Dress, Gilliflower.

Gil. Oh! ’Tis an Abomination to look like a Gentleman; long Hair is wicked and cavalierish, a Periwig is flat Popery, the Disguise of the Whore of Babylon; handsom Clothes, or lac’d Linen, the very Tempter himself, that debauches all their Wives and Daughters; therefore the diminutive Band, with the Hair of the Reformation Cut, beneath which a pair of large sanctify’d Souses appear, to declare to the World they had hitherto escap’d the Pillory, tho deserv’d it as well as Pryn.

L. Lam. Have a care what you say, Gilliflower.

Gil. Why, Madam, we have no Informers here.

Enter Page.

Page. Madam, here’s Old Noll’s Wife desires Admittance to your Hon—your Highness.

L. Lam. Bid the poor Creature wait without, I’ll do her what Good I can for her Husband’s sake, who first infus’d Politicks into me, by which I may boast I have climb’d to Empire.

Lov. So, her Madness runs in that Vein I see. [Aside.

Gil. Alack, Madam, I think she’s coming.

Crom. [without] Does she keep State in the Devil’s Name, and must I wait?

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L. Lam. Heavens! I shall be scandalized by the Godly. Dear Gilliflower, conceal my Cavalier; I would not have a Cavalier seen with me for all the World—Step into my Cabinet. [Ex. Gil. and Lov.

Enter L. Cromwel, held back by a Man—to them Gilliflower.

Crom. Unhand me, Villain—’twas not long since a Rudeness, Sir, like this had forfeited thy Head.

L. Lam. What wou’d the Woman?

Crom. The Knave, the perjur’d Villain thy Husband, by th’ Throat: thou proud, imperious Baggage, to make me wait; whose Train thou hast been proud to bear—how durst thou, after an Affront like this, trust thy false Face within my Fingers reach? that Face, that first bewitch’d the best of Husbands from me, and tempted him to sin.

Gil. I beseech your Highness retire, the Woman’s mad.

Crom. Highness in the Devil’s Name, sure ’tis not come to that; no, I may live to see thy Cuckold hang’d first, his Politicks are yet too shallow, Mistress. Heavens! Did my Husband make him Lord for this? raise him to Honour, Trusts, Commands, and Counsels,

L. Lam. I pity the poor Creature.

L. Lam. Alas, it weeps, poor Woman!

Gil. His Father sure was seeking of the Lard when he was got.

Enter L. Fleetwood, her Train born up.

L. Fleet. Madam, I hope you mistake my honour’d Lord Lambert, I believe he designs the Throne for my dear Lord.

Enter Fleetwood.

Fleet. My honour’d Mother, I am glad to find you here; I hope we shall reconcile things between ye. Verily we should live in Brotherly Love together; come, ingeniously, you shall be Friends, my Lady Mother.

Crom. Curse on th’ occasion of thy being a Kin to me.

Fleet. Why, an please ye, forsooth, Madam?

Fleet. Nay, I’ll warrant you, Madam, when there is any gadly Mischief to be done, I am as forward as the best; but ’tis good to take the Lard along with us in every thing. I profess ingeniously, as I am an honest Man, verily—ne’er stir—I shall act as becomes a good Christian.

Fleet. Who calls him so? Pray take their Names down: I profess ingeniously, forsooth, Madam, verily I’ll order ’em, as I am here I will.

Crom. Thou, alas! they scorn so poor a thing as thou.

Fleet. Do they ingeniously? I’ll be even with ’em, forsooth, Mother, as I am here I will, and there’s an end on’t.

Fleet. I profess, Madam, you mistake my good Lord Lambert, he’s an honest Man, and fears the Lard; he tells me I am to be the Man; verily he does, after all’s done.

Cram. Yes, after all’s done, thou art the Man to be pointed at.

Fleet. Nay, ingeniously, I scorn the Words, so I do: I know the great Work of Salvation to the Nation is to be wrought by me, verily.

Crom. Do, cant on, till Heaven drop Kingdoms in thy Mouth: Dull, silly Sot, thou Ruin of our Interest; thou fond, incorrigible, easy Fool.

Enter Page.

Page. My Lord, the Committee of Safety waits your coming.

Fleet. Why, law you now, forsooth—I profess verily, you are ingeniously the hardest of Belief—tell the Honourable Lords I’m coming: Go, Lady-mother, go home with my Wife; and verily you’ll see things go to your wish—I must to Coach.

L. Fleet. Madam, your humble Servant. [To La. Lam.

Fleet. Honour’d Lady, I kiss your Hands.

[Exeunt Crom. Fleet, and L. Fleet.

Enter Loveless.

Lov. Nay—by all that’s—

L. Lam. Ah, hold! Do not profane my Ears with Oaths or Execrations, I cannot bear the Sound.

Lov. Nay, nay—by Heav’n I’ll not depart your Lodgings, till that soft Love that plays so in your Eyes give me a better Proof—by—

L. Lam. Oh hold, I die, if you proceed in this Abomination.

Lov. Why do you force me to’t? d’ye think to put me off with such a Face—such Lips—such Smiles—such Eyes, and every Charm—You’ve made me mad, and I shall swear my Soul away, if disappointed now.

Gil. Ah, save the Gentleman’s Soul, I beseech ye, Madam.

L. Lam. I’m much inclin’d to Acts of Piety—And you have such a Power, that howe’er I incommode my Honour— [Leaning on him, smiling. He goes to lead her out, Enter La. Desbro.

—Desbro here! How unseasonably she comes?

L. Des. Cry mercy, Madam, I’ll withdraw a while.

L. Lam. Ah, Desbro! thou art come in the most lucky Minute—I was just on the point of falling—As thou say’st, these Heroicks have the strangest Power—

L. Des. I never knew a Woman cou’d resist ’em.

L. Lam. No marvel then, our Husbands use ’em so, betray ’em, banish ’em, sequester, murder ’em, and every way disarm ’em—

L. Des. But their Eyes, Madam.

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L. Lam. Ay, their Eyes, Desbro; I wonder our Lords shou’d take away their Swords, and let ’em wear their Eyes.

L. Des. I’ll move it to the Committee of Safety, Madam, those Weapons should be taken from ’em too.

L. Lam. Still they’ll have some to be reveng’d on us.

L. Des. Ay, so they will will; My Lord says, a Cavalier is a kind of Hydra, knock him o’th’ Head as often as you will, he has still one to peep up withal.

Enter Page.

Page. Madam, here’s Mr. Freeman to speak with your Honour.

Lov. That’s a Friend of mine, Madam, and ’twou’d be unnecessary he saw your Highness and I together: let us withdraw—

L. Lam. Withdraw! why, what will Desbro say?

L. Des. O Madam, I know your Virtue and your Piety too well to suspect your Honour wrongfully: ’tis impossible a Lady that goes to a Conventicle twice a Day, besides long Prayers and loud Psalm—singing, shou’d do any thing with an Heroick against her Honour. Your known Sanctity preserves you from Scandal—But here’s Freeman— [Puts ’em in.

Enter Freeman.

Free. So, Madam—you are very kind—

L. Des. My charming Freeman, this tedious Day of Absence has been an Age in love. How hast thou liv’d without me?

Free. Like one condemn’d, sad and disconsolate, And all the while you made your Husband happy.

L. Des. Name not the Beastly Hypocrite, thou know’st I made no other use of him, But a dull Property to advance our Love.

Free. And ’tis but Justice, Maria, he sequester’d me of my whole Estate, because, he said, I took up Arms in Ireland, on Noble Ormond’s Side; nay, hir’d Rogues, 370 perjur’d Villains—Witnesses with a Pox, to swear it too; when at that time I was but Eight Years Old; but I escap’d as well as all the Gentry and Nobility of England. To add to this, he takes my Mistress too.

L. Des. You mistake, my lovely Freeman; I married only thy Estate, the best Composition I cou’d make for thee, and I will pay it back with Interest too.

Free. You wou’d suspect my Love then, and swear that all the Adoration I pay you, were, as we do to Heav’n, for Interest only.

L. Des. How you mistake my Love, but do so still, so you will let me give these—Proofs of it. [Gives him Gold.

L. Des. You know my leisure Hours are when my Honourable Lord is busied in Affairs of State, or at his Prayers; from which long-winded Exercise I have of late withdrawn my self: three Hours by the Clock he prays extemporary, which is, for National and Household Blessings: For the first—’tis to confound the Interest of the King, that the Lard wou’d deliver him, his Friends, Adherers and Allies, wheresoever scatter’d about the Face of the whole Earth, into the Clutches of the Righteous: Press ’em, good Lard, even as the Vintager doth the Grape in the Wine-Press, till the Waters and gliding Channels are made red with the Blood of the Wicked. [In a Tone.

Free. And grant the Faithful to be mighty, and to be strong in Persecution; and more especially, ah! I beseech thee confound that malignant Tory Freeman—that he may never rise up in judgment against thy Servant, who has taken from him his Estate, his Sustenance and Bread; give him Grace of thy infinite Mercy, to hang himself, if 371 thy People can find no zealous Witnesses to swear him to the Gallows legally. Ah, we have done very much for thee, Lard, thou shoud’st consider us thy Flock, and we shou’d be as good to thee in another thing. [In a Tone.

L. Des. Thou hit’st the zealous Twang right; sure thou hast been acquainted with some of ’em.

Free. Damn ’em, no; what honest Man wou’d keep ’em Company, where harmless Wit and Mirth’s a Sin, laughing scandalous, and a merry Glass Abomination?

L. Des. Yes, if you drink Healths, my wicked Brother: otherwise, to be silently drunk, to be as abusive and satirical as you please, upon the Heroicks, is allowable—for laughing, ’tis not indeed so well; but the precise Sneer and Grin is lawful; no swearing indeed, but lying and dissimulation in abundance. I’ll assure you, they drink as deep, and entertain themselves as well with this silent way of leud Debauchery, as you with all your Wit and Mirth, your Healths of the Royal Family.

Free. Nay, I confess, ’tis a great Pleasure to cheat the World.

L. Des. ’Tis Power, as divine Hobbes calls it.

Free. But what’s all this to Love? Where shall we meet anon?

L. Des. I’ll tell you, what will please you as well—Your Friend is within with her Highness that shall be, if the Devil and her Husband’s Politicks agree about the matter.

Free. Ha, has my cautious Railer manag’d matters so slyly?

L. Des. No, no, the matter was manag’d to his Hand; you see how Heav’n brings things about, for the Good of your Party; this Business will be worth to him at least a thousand Pound a year, or two, well manag’d—But see, my Lady’s Woman.

Gil. Oh, Madam, my Lord— [Running cross the Stage into her Lady’s Chamber.

Free. Death, how shall I bring my Friend off? he’ll certainly be ruin’d.

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Enter Gill. Lov. and Lady Lam.

Gill. Madam, he’s coming up.

Lov. Madam, for my self I care not, but am much concern’d for you.

[L. Lam. takes two Papers out of her Pocket, and gives ’em to Lov. and Free.

L. Lam. Here take these two Petitions, each of you one—Poor Fellows—you may be gone, your Petitions will not be granted.

Enter Lambert.

Lam. How now, my Dear, what Petitions?—Friends, what’s your Bus’ness?

L. Lam. ’Tis enough we know their Business, Love, we are sufficient to dispatch such Suiters, I hope.

Lam. Pardon me, my Dear, I thought no harm; but I saw you frown, and that made me concern’d.

L. Lam. Frown! ’Twou’d make any Body frown, to hear the Impudence of Gentlemen, these Cavaliers—wou’d you think it, my Dear, if this Fellow has not the Impudence to petition for the Thirds of his Estate again, so justly taken from him for bearing Arms for the Man?—

L. Des. Nay, I’m inform’d, that they, but two Nights ago, in a Tavern, drunk a Health to the Man too.

Lam. How durst you, Sirrah, approach my Lady with any such saucy Address? you have receiv’d our Answer.

Lov. Death, I have scarce Patience. [Aside.

Free. We knew, my Lord, the Influence your Ladies have over you, and Women are more tender and compassionate naturally than Men; and, Sir, ’tis hard for Gentlemen to starve.

L. Lam. Have you not able Limbs? can ye not work?

Lov. Persons of our Education work!

Lam. Starve or beg then.

L. Lam. Education! why, I’ll warrant there was that young Creature they call the Duke of Glocester, was as 373 well educated as any Lad in the Parish; and yet you see he should have been bound Prentice to a Handy-Crafts Trade, but that our Lords could not spare Money to bind him out, and so they sent him to beg beyond Sea.

Lov. Death, I shall do Mischief: not all the Joy she gave me but now, can atone for this Blasphemy against the Royal Youth. [Aside.

Free. Patience—Well, my Lord, we find you are obdurate, and we’ll withdraw.

Lam. Do so: And if you dare presume to trouble us any more, I’ll have you whip’d, d’ye hear.

L. Des. Madam, I’ll take my leave of your Ladyship.

[Ex. Lov. Free. and L. Des.

L. Lam. My Lord, ’twas I that ought to threaten ’em—but you’re so forward still—what makes you from the Committee?

Lam. I left some Papers behind.

L. Lam. And they’ll make use of your Absence to set up Fleetwood King.

Lam. I’ll warrant ye, my Dear.

L. Lam. You’ll warrant! you are a Fool, and a Coxcomb; I see I must go my self, there will be no Bus’ness done till I thunder ’em together: They want Old Oliver amongst ’em, his Arbitrary Nod cou’d make ye all tremble; when he wanted Power or Money, he need but cock in Parliament, and lay his Hand upon his Sword, and cry, I must have Money, and had it, or kick’d ye all out of Doors: And you are all mealy mouth’d, you cannot cock for a Kingdom.

Lam. I’ll warrant ye, Dear, I can do as good a thing for a Kingdom.

L. Lam. You can do nothing as you shou’d do’t: You want Old Oliver’s Brains, Old Oliver’s Courage, and Old Oliver’s Counsel: Ah, what a politick Fellow was little Sir Anthony! What a Head-piece was there! What a plaguy Fellow Old Thurlo, and the rest! But get ye back, 374 and return me Protector at least, or never hope for Peace again.

Lam. My Soul, trouble not thy self, go in—

ACT III.

Scene I. A Council-Chamber, great Table, Chairs, and Papers.

Enter two Clerks, who lay Papers in Order, and Doorkeeper.

Door. Come, haste, haste, the Lords are coming—keep back there, room for the Lords, room for the honourable Lords: Heav’n bless your Worships Honours.

Enter Lambert, Fleetwood, Whitlock, Wariston, discoursing earnestly; to them Duckenfield, Cobbet, Hewson, Desbro, and others; Duck. takes Wariston by the Hand, and talks to him.

War. Bread a gued, Gentlemen, I’s serv’d the Commonwealth long and faithfully; I’s turn’d and turn’d to aud Interest and aud Religions that turn’d up Trump, and wons a me, but I’s get naught but Bagery by my Sol; I’s noo put in for a Pansion as well as rest o ya Loones.

Cob. What we can serve you in, my Lord, you may command.

Duc. And I too, my Lord, when the Government is new moulded.

War. Wons, Sirs, and I’s sa moold it, ’twas ne’er sa moolded sen the Dam boon’d the Head on’t.

Duc. I know there are some ambitious Persons that are for a single Person; but we’ll have hot Work e’er we yield to that.

War. The faud Diel take ’em then for Archibald; ’tis warse than Monarchy.

Duc. A thousand times: have we with such Industry 375 been pulling down Kings of the Royal Family, to set up Tyrants of our own, of mean and obscure Birth? No, if we’re for a single Person, I’m for a lawful one.

War. Wons and ya have spoken aud, my Lord, so am I.

Due. But Lambert has a busy, haughty Spirit, and thinks to carry it; but we’ll have no single Person.

War. Nor I, ods Bread; the faud Diel brest the Wem of Lambert, or any single Person in England. I’s for yare Interest, my gued Lords. [Bowing.

Lam. My Lord Wariston, will you please to assume the Chair?

Enter Loveless, Freeman, and others with Petitions.

War. Ah, my gued Loord, I’s yare most obedient humble Servant. [Bowing to Lam. all set.

All. Hum, hum.

Fleet. My Lords and Gentlemen, we are here met together in the Name of the Lard—

Duc. Yea, and I hope we shall hang together as one Man—A Pox upon your Preaching. [Aside.

Fleet. —And hope this Day’s great Work will be for his Praise and Glory.

Duc. ’Bating long Graces, my Lord, we are met together for the Bus’ness of the Nation, to settle it, and to establish a Government.

Fleet. Yea, verily: and I hope you will all unanimously agree, it shall be your unworthy Servant.

Lam. What else, my Lord.

Fleet. And as thou, Lard, hast put the Sword into my Hand—

Due. So put it into your Heart—my Lord, to do Justice.

Fleet. Amen.

Due. I’d rather see it there than in your Hand— [Aside.

Fleet. For we are, as it were, a Body without a Head; or, to speak more learnedly, an Animal inanimate.

Hew. My Lord, let us use, as little as we can, the 376 Language of the Beast, hard Words; none of your Eloquence, it savoureth of Monarchy.

Lam. My Lord, you must give Men of Quality leave to speak in a Language more gentile and courtly than the ordinary sort of Mankind.

Hew. My Lord, I am sorry to hear there are any of Quality among this honourable Dissembly. [Stands up.

Cob. Assembly, my Lord—

Hew. Well, you know my meaning; or if there be any such, I’m sorry they should own themselves of Quality.

Due. How! own themselves Gentlemen! Death, Sir, d’ye think we were all born Coblers?

Hew. Or if you were not, the more the pity, for little England, I say. [In a heat.

Fleet. Verily, my Lords, Brethren should not fall out, it is a Scandal to the good Cause, and maketh the wicked rejoice.

War. Wons, and theys garr the loosey Proverb on’t te, when loons gang together by th’ luggs, gued men get their ene.

All. He, he, he.

Due. He calls you Knaves by Craft, my Lords.

War. Bread a gued, take’t among ye, Gentlemen, I’s ment weel.

Fleet. I profess, my Lord Wariston, you make my Hair stand an end to hear how you swear.

War. Wons, my Loord, I’s swear as little as your Lordship, only I’s swear out, and ye swallow aud.

Due. There’s a Bone for you to pick, my Lord.

All. He, he, he.

Lam. We give my Lord Wariston leave to jest.

Des. But what’s this to the Government all this while? A dad I shall sit so late, I shall have no time to visit my Horses, therefore proceed to the Point.

Hew. Ay, to the Point, my Lords; the Gentleman that spoke last spoke well.

Cob. Well said, Brother, I see you will in time speak properly.

377

Duc. But to the Government, my Lords! [Beats the Table.

Lam. Put ’em off of this Discourse, my Lord. [Aside to War.

Des. My Lord Wariston, move it, you are Speaker.

War. The Diel a me, Sirs, and noo ya talk of a Speaker, I’s tell ye a blithe Tale.

Fleet. Ingeniously, my Lord, you are to blame to swear so.

Lam. Your Story, my Lord.

War. By my Sol, mon, and there war a poor Woman the other Day, begg’d o’th’ Carle the Speaker, but he’d give her nought unless she’d let a Feart; wons at last a Feart she lat. Ay marry, quoth the Woman, noo my Rump has a Speaker te.

All. He, he, he.

Due. But to our Bus’ness—

Des. Bus’ness; ay, there’s the thing, I’ve a World on’t. I shou’d go and bespeak a Pair of Mittins and Shears for my Hedger and Shearer, a pair of Cards for my Thrasher, a Scythe for my Mower, and a Screen-Fan for my Lady-Wife, and many other things; my Head’s full of Bus’ness. I cannot stay—

Whit. Fy, my Lord, will you neglect the bus’ness of the Day? We meet to oblige the Nation, and gratify our Friends.

Des. Nay, I’ll do any thing, so I may rise time enough to see my Horses at Night.

Lav. Damn ’em, what stuff’s here for a Council-Table?

Free. Where are our English Spirits, that can be govern’d by such Dogs as these?—

Lam. Clerk, read the Heads of what past at our last sitting.

War. In the first place, I must mind your Lordships tol consider those that have been gued Members in the Commonwealth.

Fleet. We shall not be backward to gratify any that have serv’d the Commonwealth.

378

Whit. There’s Money enough; we have taxt the Nation high.

Due. Yes, if we knew where to find it: however, read.

Clerk reads.] To Walter Walton, Draper, six thousand nine hundred twenty nine Pounds six Shillings and five Pence, for Blacks for his Highness’s Funeral.

Lam. For the Devil’s; put it down for Oliver Cromwel’s Funeral: We’ll have no Record rise up in Judgment for such a Villain.

Lav. How live Asses kick the dead Lion! [Aside.

Due. Hark ye, my Lords, we sit here to reward Services done to the Commonwealth; let us consider whether this be a Service to the Commonwealth or not?

Lam. However, we will give him Paper for’t.

Hews. Ay, let him get his Money when he can.

Lam. Paper’s not so dear, and the Clerk’s Pains will be rewarded.

War. Right, my gued Lord,’sbred, that Cromwel was th’ faudest limmer Loon that ever cam into lour Country, the faud Diel has tane him by th’ Luggs for robbing our Houses and Land.

Fleet. No swearing, my Lord.

War. Weel, weel, my Loord, I’s larne to profess and lee as weel as best on ya.

Hews. That may bring you profit, my Lord—but, Clerk, proceed.

Clerk reads.] To Walter Frost, Treasurer of the Contingencies, twenty thousand Pounds. To Thurloe, Secretary to his Highness—

Duc. To old Noll.

Clerk reads.] —Old Noll, ten thousand Pounds, for unknown Service done the Commonwealth—To Mr. Hutchinson, Treasurer of the Navy, two hundred thousand Pounds—

War. Two hundred thousand Pound; Owns, what a Sum’s there?—Marry it came from the Mouth of a Cannon sure.

379

Clerk reads.] A Present to the Right Honourable and truly Virtuous Lady, the Lady Lambert, for Service done to the late Protector—

Hews. Again—say Cromwel.

Clerk. —Cromwel—six thousand Pound in Jacobus’s.

War. ’Sbread, sike a Sum wou’d make me honour the Face of aud Jemmy.

Clerk. To Mr. Ice six thousand Pound; to Mr. Loether, late Secretary to his High—

Whit. To Oliver Cromwel say, can you not obey Orders?

Clerk. —Secretary to Oliver Cromwel—two thousand nine hundred ninety nine Pounds for Intelligence and Information, and piously betraying the King’s Liege People.

War. Haud, haud, Sirs, Mary en ya gift se fast ya’ll gif aud away from poor Archibald Johnson.

Whit. Speak for your self, my Lord; or rather, my Lord, do you speak for him. [To Lam.

Lam. Do you move it for him, and I’ll do as much for you anon. [Aside to Whit.

Whit. My Lord, since we are upon Gratifications,—let us consider the known Merit of the Lord Wariston, a Person of industrious Mischiefs to the malignant Party, and great Integrity to us, and the Commonwealth.

War. Gued faith, an I’s ha been a trusty Trojon, Sir, what say you, may very gued and gracious Loords?—

Duc. I scorn to let a Dog go unrewarded; and you, Sir, fawn so prettily, ’tis pity you shou’d miss Preferment.

Hews. And so ’tis; come, come, my Lords, consider he was ever our Friend, and ’tis but reasonable we shou’d stitch up one another’s broken Fortunes.

Duc. Nay, Sir, I’m not against it.

All. ’Tis Reason, ’tis Reason.

Free. Damn ’em, how they lavish out the Nation!

War. Scribe, pretha read my Paper.

Hews. Have you a Pertition there?

Cob. A Petition, my Lord.

380

Hews. Pshaw, you Scholards are so troublesome.

Lam. Read the Substance of it. [To the Clerk.

Clerk. That your Honours wou’d be pleas’d, in consideration of his Service, to grant to your Petitioner, a considerable Sum of Money for his present Supply.

Fleet. Verily, order him two thousand Pound—

War. Two thousand poond? Bread a gued, and I’s gif my Voice for Fleetwood. [Aside.

Lam. Two thousand; nay, my Lords, let it be three.

War. Wons, I lee’d, I lee’d; I’s keep my Voice for Lambert—Guds Benizon light on yar Sol, my gued Lord Lambert.

Hews. Three thousand Pound! why such a Sum wou’d buy half Scotland.

War. Wons, my Lord, ya look but blindly on’t then: time was, a Mite on’t had bought aud shoos in yar Stall, Brother, tho noo ya so abound in Irish and Bishops Lands.

Duc. You have nick’d him there, my Lord.

All. He, he, he.

War. Scribe—gang a tiny bit farther.

Clerk. —And that your Honours would be pleas’d to confer an Annual Pension on him—

Lam. Reason, I think; what say you, my Lords, of five hundred Pound a Year?

All. Agreed, agreed.

War. The Diel swallow me, my Lord, ya won my Heart.

Due. ’Tis very well—but out of what shall this be rais’d?

Lam. We’ll look what Malignants’ Estates are forfeit, undispos’d of—let me see—who has young Freeman’s Estate?

Des. My Lord, that fell to me.

Lam. What all the fifteen hundred Pound a Year?

Des. A Dad, and all little enough.

Free. The Devil do him good with it.

Des. Had not the Lard put it into your Hearts to have given me two thousand per Annum out of Bishops Lands, 381 and three thousand per Annum out of the Marquess’s Estate; how shou’d I have liv’d and serv’d the Commonwealth as I have done?

Free. A plague confound his Honour, he makes a hard shift to live on Eight thousand Pound a Year, who was born and bred a Hedger.

Lov. Patience, Friend.

Lam. I have been thinking—but I’ll find out a way.

Lov. Or betray some honest Gentleman, on purpose to gratify the Loone.

Lam. And, Gentlemen, I am bound in Honour and Conscience to speak in behalf of my Lord Whitlock; I think fit, if you agree with me, he shou’d be made Constable of Windsor Castle, Warden of the Forest, with the Rents, Perquisities, and Profits thereto belonging; nor can your Lordships confer a Place of greater Trust and Honour in more safe Hands.

Due. I find he wou’d oblige all to his side. [Aside.

Has he not part of the Duke of Buckingham’s Estate already, with Chelsey House, and several other Gifts?

Lam. He has dearly deserv’d ’em; he has serv’d our Interest well and faithfully.

Due. And he has been well paid for’t.

Whit. And so were you, Sir, with several Lordships, and Bishops Lands, you were not born to, I conceive.

Duc. I have not got it, Sir, by knavish Querks in Law; a Sword that deals out Kingdoms to the brave, has cut out some small parcels of Earth for me. And what of this? [Stands up in a heat.

Whit. I think, Sir, he that talks well, and to th’ purpose, may be as useful to the Commonwealth as he that fights well. Why do we keep so many else in Pension that ne’er drew Sword, but to talk, and rail at the malignant Party; to libel and defame ’em handsomly, with pious useful Lyes,

Free. And which you may be hang’d for very shortly— [Aside.

Lam. ’Tis granted, my Lord, your Merit’s infinite—We made him Keeper of the Great Seal, ’tis true, ’tis Honour, but no Salary.

Duc. Ten thousand Pound a Year in Bribes will do as well.

Lam. Bribes are not so frequent now as in Old Noll’s Days.

Hews. Well, my Lord, let us be brief and tedious, as the saying is, and humour one another: I’m for Whitlock’s Advance.

Lam. I move for a Salary, Gentlemen, Scobel and other petty Clerks have had a thousand a Year; my Lord sure merits more.

Hews. Why—let him have two thousand then.

Fleet. I profess ingeniously, with all my Heart.

Whit. I humbly thank your Lordships—but, if I may be so bold to ask, from whence shall I receive it?

Lam. Out of the Customs.

Cob. Brotherly Love ought to go along with us—but, under favour, when this is gone, where shall we raise new Supplies?

Lam. We’ll tax the Nation high, the City higher, They are our Friends, our most obsequious Slaves, Our Dogs to fetch and carry, our very Asses—

Lov. And our Oxes, with the help of their Wives. [Aside.

Lam. Besides, the City’s rich, and near her time, I hope, of being deliver’d.

War. Wons a gued, wad I’d the laying o’ her, she shou’d be sweetly brought to Bed, by my Sol.

Des. The City cares for no Scotch Pipers, my Lord.

War. By my Sol, but she has danc’d after the gued 383 Pipe of Reformation, when the Covenant Jigg gang’d maryly round, Sirs.

Clerk. My Lords, here are some poor malignant Petitioners.

Lam. Oh, turn ’em out, here’s nothing for ’em; these Fellows were petitioning my Lady to day—I thought she had given you a satisfactory Answer,

Lov. She did indeed, my Lord: but ’tis a hard Case, to take away a Gentleman’s Estate, without convicting him of any Crime.

Lam. Oh, Sir, we shall prove that hereafter.

Lov. But to make sure Work, you’ll hang a Man first and examine his Offence afterwards; a Plague upon your Consciences: My Friend here had a little fairer Play; your Villains, your Witnesses in Pension swore him a Colonel for our glorious Master, of ever blessed Memory, at eight Years old; a Plague upon their Miracles.

Fleet. Ingeniously, Sirrah, you shall be pillory’d for defaming our reverend Witnesses: Guards, take ’em to your Custody both.

Free. Damn it, I shall miss my Assignation with Lady Desbro; a Pox of your unnecessary prating, what shall I do? [Guards take ’em away.

Lam. And now, my Lords, we have finished the Business of the Day. My good Lord Fleetwood, I am entirely yours, and at our next sitting shall approve my self your Creature—

Whit. My good Lord, I am your submissive Vassal.

War. Wons, my Lord, I scorn any Man shou’d be mere yare Vassal than Archibald Johnson. [To Fleetwood.

[Ex. All.

Scene II. A Chamber in Lady Desbro’s House.

Enter La. Desbro, and Corporal in haste.

L. Des. Seiz’d on, secur’d! Was there no time but this? What made him at the Committee, or when there why 384 spoke he honest Truth? What shall I do, good Corporal? Advise; take Gold, and see if you can corrupt his Guards: but they are better paid for doing Mischief; yet try, their Consciences are large. [Gives him Gold.

Cor. I’ll venture my Life in so good a Cause, Madam. [Exit.

Enter Tom.

Tom. Madam, here’s Mr. Ananias Gogle, the Lay-Elder of Clement’s Parish.

L. Des. Damn the sham Saint; am I now in Condition to be plagu’d with his impertinent Nonsense?

Tom. Oh! Pray, Madam, hear him preach a little; ’tis the purest Sport—

Enter Ananias.

Ana. Peace be in this Place.

L. Des. A blessed hearing; he preaches nothing in his Conventicles, but Blood and Slaughter. [Aside.

What wou’d you, Sir? I’m something busy now.

Ana. Ah, the Children of the Elect have no Business but the great Work of Reformation: Yea verily, I say, all other Business is profane, and diabolical, and devilish; Yea, I say, these Dressings, Curls, and Shining Habilliments—which take so up your time, your precious time; I say, they are an Abomination, yea, an Abomination in the sight of the Righteous, and serve but as an Ignis fatuus, to lead vain Man astray—I say again— [Looking now and then behind on the Page.

L. Des. —You are a very Coxcomb.

Ana. I say again, that even I, upright I, one of the new Saints, find a sort of a—a—I know not what—a kind of a Motion as it were—a stirring up—as a Man may say, to wickedness—Yea, verily it corrupteth the outward Man within me.

L. Des. Is this your Business, Sir, to rail against our Clothes, as if you intended to preach me into my Primitive Nakedness again?

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Ana. Ah, the naked Truth is best; but, Madam, I have a little work of Grace to communicate unto you, please you to send your Page away—

L. Des. Withdraw—sure I can make my Party good with one wicked Elder:—Now, Sir, your Bus’ness. [Ex. Tom.

—Be brief.

Ana. As brief as you please—but—who in the sight of so much Beau - - ty—can think of any Bus’ness but the Bus’ness—Ah! hide those tempting Breasts,—Alack, how smooth and warm they are— [Feeling ’em, and sneering.

L. Des. How now, have you forgot your Function?

Ana. Nay, but I am mortal Man also, and may fall seven times a day—Yea verily, I may fall seven times a day—Your Ladyship’s Husband is old,—and where there is a good excuse for falling,—ah, there the fall—ing—is excusable.—And might I but fall with your Ladyship,—might I, I say.—

L. Des. How, this from you, the Head o’ th’ Church Militant, the very Pope of Presbytery?

Ana. Verily, the Sin lieth in the Scandal; therefore most of the discreet pious Ladies of the Age chuse us, upright Men, who make a Conscience of a Secret, the Laity being more regardless of their Fame.—In sober sadness, the Place—inviteth, the Creature tempting, and the Spirit very violent within me. [Takes and ruffles her.

L. Des. Who waits there?—I’m glad you have prov’d your self what I ever thought of all your pack of Knaves.

Ana. Ah, Madam! Do not ruin my Reputation; there are Ladies of high Degree in the Commonwealth, to whom we find our selves most comforting; why might not you be one?—for, alas, we are accounted as able Men in Ladies Chambers, as in our Pulpits: we serve both Functions—

Enter Servants.

Hah! her Servants— [Stands at a distance.

L. Des. Shou’d I tell this, I shou’d not find belief. [Aside.

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Ana. Madam, I have another Errand to your Ladiship.—It is the Duty of my Occupation to catechize the Heads of every Family within my Diocese; and you must answer some few Questions I shall ask.—In the first place, Madam,—Who made ye?

L. Des. So, from Whoring, to a zealous Catechism—who made me? what Insolence is this, to ask me Questions which every Child that lisps out Words can answer!

Ana. ’Tis our Method, Madam.

L. Des. Your Impudence, Sirrah,—let me examine your Faith, who are so sawcy to take an account of mine—Who made you? But lest you shou’d not know, I will inform you: First, Heav’n made you a deform’d, ill-favour’d Creature; then the Rascal your Father made you a Taylor; next, your Wife made you a Cuckold; and lastly the Devil has made you a Doctor; and so get you gone for a Fool and a Knave all over.

Ana. A Man of my Coat affronted thus!

L. Des. It shall be worse, Sirrah, my Husband shall know how kind you wou’d have been to him, because your Disciple and Benefactor, to have begot him a Babe of Grace for a Son and Heir.

Ana. Mistake not my pious meaning, most gracious Lady.

L. Des. I’ll set you out in your Colours: Your impudent and bloody Principles, your Cheats, your Rogueries on honest Men, thro their kind, deluded Wives, whom you cant and goggle into a Belief, ’tis a great work of Grace to steal, and beggar their whole Families, to contribute to your Gormandizing, Lust and Laziness; Ye Locusts of the Land, preach Nonsense, Blasphemy, and Treason, till you sweat again, that the sanctify’d Sisters may rub you down, to comfort and console the Creature.

Ana. Ah! Am—

L. Des. Sirrah, be gone, and trouble me no more—be gone—yet stay—the Rogue may be of use to me—Amongst the heap of Vice, Hypocrisy, and Devils that 387 possess all your Party, you may have some necessary Sin; I’ve known some honest, useful Villains amongst you, that will swear, profess, and lye devoutedly for the Good Old Cause.

Ana. Yea, verily, I hope there are many such, and I shou’d rejoice, yea, exceedingly rejoice in any Gadly Performance to your Ladiship.

L. Des. This is a pious Work: You are a Knave of Credit, a very Saint with the rascally Rabble, with whom your seditious Cant more prevails, your precious Hum and Ha, and gifted Nonsense, than all the Rhetorick of the Learn’d or Honest.

Ana. Hah!

L. Des. —In fine, I have use of your Talent at present, there’s one now in Confinement of the Royal Party—his Name’s Freeman.

Ana. And your Ladiship wou’d have him dispatch’d; I conceive ye—but wou’d you have him dispatch’d privately, or by Form of Law? we’ve Tools for all uses, and ’tis a pious Work, and meritorious.

L. Des. Right, I wou’d indeed have him dispatch’d, and privately; but ’tis hither privately, hither to my Chamber, privately, for I have private Bus’ness with him. D’ye start?—this must be done—for you can pimp I’m sure upon occasion, you’ve Tools for all uses; come, resolve, or I’ll discover your bloody Offer. Is your Stomach so queasy it cannot digest Pimping, that can swallow Whoring, false Oaths, Sequestration, Robbery, Rapes, and Murders daily?

Ana. Verily, you mistake my pious Meaning; it is the Malignant I stick at; the Person, not the Office: and in sadness, Madam, it goeth against my tender Conscience to do any good to one of the Wicked.

L. Des. It must stretch at this time; go haste to the Guard, and demand him in my Husband’s Name; here’s something worth your Pains—having releas’d him, bring him to me, you understand me—go bid him be diligent, 388 and as you behave your self, find my Favour; for know, Sir, I am as great a Hypocrite as you, and know the Cheats of your Religion too; and since we know one another, ’tis like we shall be true.

Ana. But shou’d the Man be missing, and I call’d to account?—

L. Des. He shall be return’d in an hour: go, get you gone, and bring him, or—no more— [Ex. Ana.

ACT IV.

Scene I. A Chamber in La. Desbro’s House. Candles, and Lights.

Enter L. Desbro and Freeman.

L. Des. By what strange Miracle, my dearest Freeman, wert thou set at liberty?

Free. On the zealous Parole of Rabbie Ananias; that Rhetorick that can convert whole Congregations of well-meaning Blockheads to errant Knaves, has now mollify’d my Keeper; I’m to be render’d back within this Hour: let’s not, my dear Maria, lose the precious minutes this Reverend Hypocrite has given us.

L. Des. Oh! you are very gay, have you forgot whose Prisoner you are, and that perhaps, e’er many Days are ended, they may hang you for High-Treason against the Commonwealth? they never want a good thorow-stitch’d Witness to do a Murder lawfully.

Free. No matter, then I shall die with Joy, Maria, when I consider, that you lov’d so well to give me the last Proof on’t.

L. Des. Are you in earnest, Freeman? and wou’d you take what Honour will not suffer me to grant?

Free. With all my Heart, Honour’s a poor Excuse. 389 Your Heart and Vows (your better part) are mine; you’ve only lent your Body out to one whom you call Husband, and whom Heaven has mark’d for Cuckoldom. Nay, ’tis an Act of honest Loyalty, so to revenge our Cause; whilst you were only mine, my honest Love thought it a Sin to press these Favours from you; ’twas injuring my self as well as thee; but now we only give and take our Right.

L. Des. No more, my Husband’s old—

Free. Right, my dear Maria, and therefore—

L. Des. —May possibly die—

Free. He will be hang’d first.

L. Des. —I hope so—either of which will do our Bus’ness—unreasonable Freeman, not to have Patience till my Husband be hang’d a little.

Free. But what if Destiny put the Change upon us, and I be hang’d instead of Desbro?

L. Des. Why then thou art not the first gallant Fellow that has died in the Good and Royal Cause; and a small taste of Happiness will but turn thee off the Ladder with the sadder Heart.

L. Des. But I am married to him.

Free. So much the worse, to make a League and Covenant with such Villains, and keep the sinful Contract; a little harmless Lying and Dissimulation I’ll allow thee, but to be right down honest, ’tis the Devil.

L. Des. This will not do, it never shall be said I’ve been so much debauch’d by Conventicling to turn a sainted Sinner; No, I’m true to my Allegiance still, true to my 390 King and Honour. Suspect my Loyalty when I lose my Virtue: a little time, I’m sure, will give me honestly into thy Arms; if thou hast Bravery, shew it in thy Love.

Free. You will o’ercome, and shame me every way;—but when will this Change come? and till it do, what Pawn will you give me, I shall be happy then?

L. Des. My Honour, and that Happiness you long for, and take but two Months time for their Redemption.

Free. How greedily I’ll seize the Forfeiture!

L. Des. But what am I like to get if this Change do come?

Free. A Slave, and whatever you please to make of him.

L. Des. Who knows, in such an universal Change, how you may alter too?

Free. I’ll give ye Bond and Vows, unkind Maria,—Here take my Hand—Be it known unto all Men, by these Presents, that I, John Freeman of London, Gent, acknowledge my self in Debt to Maria Desbro, the Sum of one Heart, with an incurable Wound; one Soul, destin’d hers from its first Being; and one Body, whole, sound, and in perfect Health; which I here promise to pay to the said Maria, upon Demand, if the aforesaid John Freeman be not hang’d before such Demand made. Whereto I set my Hand—and seal it with my Lips. [In a Tone.

L. Des. And I, in consideration of such Debt, do freely give unto the abovesaid John Freeman, the Heart and Body of the abovesaid Maria Desbro, with all Appurtenances thereto belonging, whenever it shall please Heaven to bring my Husband fairly to the Gallows. [In a Tone.

Free. Amen—kiss the Book— [Kisses her.

[Ana. hums without.

L. Des. Hah! that’s Ananias; sure some Danger’s near, the necessary Rascal gives us notice of.

Free. ’Tis so, what wouldst thou have me do?

L. Des. Thou art undone if seen—here, step within this Curtain. [He goes.

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Enter Ananias, humming, and spreading his Cloak wide; Desbro behind him, puffing in a Chafe.

Des. Ads nigs, what a Change is here like to be?—puff, puff—we have manag’d Matters sweetly—to let the Scotch General undermine us; puff, puff.

L. Des. What’s the Matter?

Des. Nothing, Cockey, nothing, but that we are like to return to our first nothing.

Ana. Yea, verily, when our time’s come; but ah, the great Work of Reformation is not yet fully accomplish’d, which must be wrought by the Saints, and we cannot spare one of them until the Work be finish’d.

Des. Yea, yea, it is finish’d I doubt, puff, puff: fie, fie, what a Change is here!

Ana. Patience, ah, ’tis a precious Virtue!—

Des. Patience, Sir! what, when I shall lose so many fine Estates which did appertain to the Wicked; and which, I trusted, had been establish’d ours, and tell’st thou me of Patience? puff, puff. [Walking fast.

Ana. How! lose ’em, Sir? handle the matter with Patience; I hope the Committee of Safety, or the Rump, will not do an illegal thing to one of the Brethren.

Des. No, no, I have been a trusty Knave to them, and so I have found them all to me: but Monk! Monk! O that ever we should be such blind Fools to trust an honest General!

Ana. Patience, Sir! what of him?

Des. I just now receiv’d private Intelligence, he’s coming out of Scotland with his Forces—puff, puff.

Ana. Why, let him come a Gad’s Name, we have those will give him a civil Salute, if he mean not honourably to the Commonwealth. Patience, Sir.

Des. But if he proves the stronger, and shou’d chance to be so great a Traitor to us, to bring in the Man—the King.

L. Des. How, the King, Husband! the great Heroick!

Free. Death, this Woman is a Sybil: ah, noble Monk!

Ana. Hum—the King!—

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Des. Ah, and with the King, the Bishops; and then, where’s all our Church and Bishops Lands! oh, undone—puff, puff.

Ana. How, bring in the King and Bishops! my righteous Spirit is raised too—I say, I will excommunicate him for one of the Wicked, yea, for a profane Heroick, a Malignant, a Tory,—a—I say, we will surround him, and confound him with a mighty Host; yea, and fight the Lard’s Battel with him: yea, we will—

Des. Truckle to his Pow’r—puff, puff.

Ana. Nay, I say verily, nay; for, in Sadness, I will die in my Calling.

Des. So I doubt shall I—which is Ploughing, Hedging, and Ditching.

Ana. Yea, we have the Sword of the Righteous in our Hand, and we will defend the mighty Revenues of the Church, which the Lard hath given unto his People, and chosen ones—I say, we will defend—

Des. Ah, Patience, Sir, ah, ’tis a pious Virtue—

Ana. Ah, it is Zeal in one of us, the Out-goings of the Spirit.

Enter Tom.

Tom. Sir, will you go down to Prayers? the Chaplain waits.

Des. No, no, Boy, I am too serious for that Exercise, I cannot now dissemble, Heav’n forgive me.

Ana. How, Sir, not dissemble—ah, then you have lost a great Virtue indeed, a very great Virtue; ah, let us not give away the Good Old Cause—but, as we have hitherto maintain’d it by gadly Cozenage, and pious Frauds, let us persevere—ah, let us persevere to the end; let us not lose our Heritage for a Mess of Pottage, that is, let us not lose the Cause for Dissimulation and Hypocrisy, those two main Engines that have earned on the great Work.

Des. Verily, you have prevail’d, and I will go take 393 counsel of my Pillow: Boy—call my Man to undress me—I’ll to Bed, for I am sick at Heart. [Ex. Tom.

Free. Death, what shall I do now?

[Des. walks, she whispers Ana.

L. Des. You must get my Man off, or we’re undone.

Ana. Madam, be comforted, Heaven will bring all things about for our Advantage— [As Des. turns.

L. Des. But he’s behind the Curtains, Man—

[Des. turns from ’em.

Ana. Ah, let Providence alone— [Spreads his Cloak wide, and goes by degrees toward the Bed.] —Your pious Lady, Sir, is doubtful, but I will give her ample Satisfaction.

Des. Ah, do, Mr. Ananias, do, for she’s a good and virtuous Lady, certo she is.

[Ana. goes close to the Bed-post, and speaks over his Shoulder.

Ana. Get ye behind my Cloak—

L. Des. Indeed, Sir, your Counsel and Assistance is very comfortable.

Ana. We should be Help-meets to one another, Madam.

Des. Alack, good Man!

[L. Des. goes to coax her Husband.

L. Des. Ay, my dear, I am so much oblig’d to him, that I know not, without thy Aid, how to make him amends.

Free. So, this is the first Cloak of Zeal I ever made use of.

[Ana. going, spreading his Cloak, to the Door; Free. behind goes out.

Des. Good Lady, give him his twenty pieces, adad, he worthily deserves ’em. [Gives her Gold.

L. Des. Indeed, and so he does, Dear, if thou knew’st all.—What say you now, do I not improve in Hypocrisy? And shall I not in time make a precious Member of your Church? [To Ana.

Ana. Verily, your Ladyship is most ingenious and expert.—Sir, I most humbly take my leave. [Ex. Ana.

Enter Tom.

Tom. My Lord, my Lord Lambert has sent in all haste for you, you must attend at his House immediately.

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Des. So, he has heard the News—I must away—let my Coach be ready. [Ex. Des.

L. Des. How unlucky was this that Freeman should be gone—Sirrah, run and see to o’ertake him, and bring him back. [Exeunt.

Scene II. A fine Chamber in La. Lambert’s House.

Enter Gilliflower and Loveless by dark, richly drest.

Lov. Where am I, Gilliflower?

Gill. In my Lady’s Apartment, Sir, she’ll be with you presently; you need not fear betraying, Sir, for I’ll assure you I’m an Heroick in my Heart: my Husband was a Captain for his Majesty of ever-blessed Memory, and kill’d at Naseby, God be thanked, Sir.

Lov. What pity ’tis that thou shouldst serve this Party?

Gill. Bating her Principles, my Lady has good Nature enough to oblige a Servant; and truly, Sir, my Vails were good in old Oliver’s Days; I got well by that Amour between him and my Lady; the man was lavish enough.

Lov. Yes, of the Nation’s Treasure—but prithee tell me, is not thy Lady mad, raving on Crowns and Kingdoms?

Gill. It appears so to you, who are not us’d to the Vanity of the Party, but they are all so mad in their Degree, and in the Fit they talk of nothing else, Sir: we have tomorrow a Hearing as they call it.

Lov. What’s that, a Conventicle?

Gill. No, no, Sir, Ladies of the last Edition, that present their Grievances to the Council of Ladies, of which my Lady’s chief, which Grievances are laid open to the Committee of Safety, and so redress’d or slighted, as they are.

Lov. That must be worth one’s Curiosity, could one but see’t.

Gill. We admit no Man, Sir.

Lov. ’Sdeath, for so good a sight I will turn Woman, I’ll act it to a hair.

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Gill. That would be excellent.

Lov. Nay, I must do’t; the Novelty is rare—but I’m impatient—prithee let thy Lady know I wait.

Gill. She’s in Affairs of State, but will be here immediately; mean time, retire into her Cabinet, I’ll send the Page with Lights, there you may repose till my Lady comes, on the Pallat. [She leads him out.

Scene III. A great Chamber of State, and Canopy in Lambert’s House.

And at a Table, seated Lambert, Fleetwood, Desbro, Hewson, Duckenfield, Wariston, Cobbet; all half drunk, with Bottles and Glasses on the Table; L. Lam. and L. Fleet.

Lam. My Lord Wariston, you are not merry to night.

War. Wons, Mon, this Monk sticks in my Gullet, the muckle Diel pull him out by th’ Lugs; the faud Loone will en spoyle and our Sport, mon.

Lam. I thought I had enough satisfied all your Fears; the Army’s mine, that is,—’tis yours, my Lords, and I’ll imploy it too so well for the Good of the Commonwealth, you shall have Cause to commend both my Courage and Conduct; my Lord Wariston, will you accompany me?

War. Ah, my gued Lord, the Honour is too great. ’Tis not but I’s dare fight, my Lord, but I love not the limmer Loone, he has a villanous honest Face an’s ene; I’s ken’d him ence, and lik’t him not; but I’s drink tol yar gued Fortune; let it gang aboote, ene and ad, Sirs.

[All drink.

Lam. We’ll leave all Discourse of Bus’ness, and give our selves to Mirth; I fancy good Success from this day’s Omen.

Enters Gill, whispers L. Lam. she rises.

L. Lam. Waited so long!

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Gill. And grew impatient, an’t please your Highness; must I go tell him you cannot see him to night.

Gill. So it does, an’t please your Highness.

L. Lam. Go, let him know I’m coming—Madam, I must beg your Pardon; you hear, my Lord to morrow goes on his great Expedition; and, for any thing we know, may fall a glorious Sacrifice to the Commonwealth; therefore ’tis meet I offer up some Prayers for his Safety, and all my leisure Hours ’twixt this and that, will be too few—Your humble Servant, Madam. [Ex. L. Lam. and Gill.

L. Fleet. My Dear, I’ll leave you too, my time of Devotion is come, and Heav’n will stay for no Body; where are my People? is my Coach ready, or my Chair?

Fleet. Go in your Chair, my Love, lest you catch cold.

L. Fleet. And light your Flambeaus,—I love to have my Chair surrounded with Flambeaus.

Enter Page.

Page. Your Chair is ready, Madam.

[She goes out led by Fleet.

Hews. What think ye now, my Lords, of settling the Nation a little? I find my Head swim with Politicks, and what ye call ums.

War. Wons, and wad ya settle the Nation when we real our selves?

Hews. Who, pox, shall we stand making Childrens Shoes all the Year? No, no, let’s begin to settle the Nation, I say, and go thro-stitch with our Work.

Duc. Right, we have no Head to obey; so that if this 397 Scotch General do come whilst we Dogs fight for the Bone, he runs away with it.

Hews. Shaw, we shall patch up matters with the Scotch General, I’ll warrant you: However, here’s to our next Head—One and all. [All drink.

Fleet. Verily, Sirs, this Health-drinking savoureth of Monarchy, and is a Type of Malignancy.

War. Bread, my Lord, no preaching o’er yar Liquer, wee’s now for a Cup o’ th’ Creature.

Cob. In a gadly way you may; it is lawful.

Lam. Come, come, we’re dull, give us some Musick—come, my Lord, I’ll give you a Song, I love Musick as I do a Drum, there’s Life and Soul in’t, call my Musick.

Fleet. Yea, I am for any Musick, except an Organ.

War. Sbread, Sirs, and I’s for a Horn-pipe, I’ve a faud Theefe here shall dance ye Dance tol a Horn-pipe, with any States-man a ya aud.

All. He, he, he.

Duc. I know not what your faud Theefe can do; but I’ll hold you a Wager, Colonel Hewson, and Colonel Desbro shall dance ye the Seint’s Jigg with any Sinner of your Kirk, or field Conventicler.

War. Wons, and I’s catch ’em at that Sport, I’s dance tol ’em for a Scotch Poond; but farst yar Song, my Lord, I hope ’tis boody, or else ’tis not werth a Feart.

All. He, he, he.

SONG, sung by my Lord Lambert.

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War. The Diel a me, wele sung, my Lord, and gen aud Trades fail, yas make a quaint Minstrel.

All. He, he, he.

War. Noo, Sirs, yar Dance? [They fling Cushions at one another, and grin. Musick plays.] —Marry, Sirs, an this be yar dancing, tol dance and ne’er stir Stap, the Diel lead the Donce for Archibald.

[When they have flung Cushions thus a while to the Musick time, they beat each other from the Table, one by one, and fall into a godly Dance; after a while, Wariston rises, and dances ridiculously a while amongst them; then to the Time of the Tune, they take out the rest, as at the Cushion-Dance, or in that nature. Wariston being the last taken in, leads the rest.

—Haud, Minstrels, haud; Bread a gued. I’s fatch ad Ladies in—lead away, Minstrels, tol my Lady’s Apartment.

[Musick playing before all.

[Exeunt dancing.

Scene IV. Flat.

Enter Page.

Page. Cock, Here must I wait, to give my Lady notice when my Lord approaches;—The fine Gentleman that is alone with her, gave me these two fine Pieces of Gold, and bad me buy a Sword to fight for the King withal; and I’m resolv’d to lay it all out in a Sword, not a penny in Nickers, and fight for the Heroicks as long as I have a 399 Limb, if they be all such fine Men as this within. But hark, sure I hear some coming.— [Exit.

[Flat Scene draws off, discovers L. Lam. on a Couch, with Loveless, tying a rich Diamond-Bracelet about his Arm: a Table behind with Lights, on which a Velvet Cushion, with a Crown and Scepter cover’d.

Lov. This Present’s too magnificent: such Bracelets young Monarchs shou’d put on.

L. Lam. Persons like me, when they make Presents, Sir, must do it for their Glory, not considering the Merit of the Wearer: yet this, my charming Loveless, comes short of what I ought to pay thy Worth; comes short too of my Love.

Lov. You bless me, Madam—

L. Lam. This the great Monarch of the World once ty’d about my Arm, and bad me wear it, till some greater Man shou’d chance to win my Heart;

Lov. He was the Monarch then whose Spoils I triumph in.

L. Lam. Is’t not a lovely thing?

L. Lam. I’ll pardon the Comparison in you.

L. Lam. You love me not, that would persuade me from My Glory.

Enter Gilliflower.

Gill. Oh, Madam, the Lords are all got merry, as they call it, and are all dancing hither.

L. Lam. What, at their Oliverian Frolicks?—Dear Loveless, withdraw, I wou’d not give the fond believing Fool a Jealousy of me.

Gill. Withdraw, Madam? ’tis impossible, he must run just into their Mouths.

L. Lam. I’m ill at these Intrigues, being us’d to Lovers that still came with such Authority, that modestly my Husband wou’d withdraw—but Loveless is in danger, therefore take care he be not seen.

Gill. Heav’ns! they are coming, there’s no Retreat—

L. Lam. Lie down on the Couch—and cover him you with the Foot-Carpet—So, give me my Prayer-Book.

[He lies down along on the Couch, they cover him with the Carpet: L. Lam. takes her Book, sits down on his Feet, and leans on the Back of the Couch reading; Gill. stands at t’other end, they enter dancing as before.

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—What Insolence is this? do you not hear me, you—Sots—whom Gaiety and Dancing do so ill become.

War. [Singing.] Welcome, Joan Sanderson, welcome, welcome. [Goes to take her out, she strikes him.

Wons, Madam, that’s no part o’ th’ Dance.

L. Lam. No, but ’tis part of a reward for your Insolence, Which possibly your Head shall answer for—

Lam. Pardon him, my Dear, he meant no Disrespect to thee.

L. Lam. How dare you interrupt my Devotion, Sirrah? Be gone with all your filthy ill-bred Crew.

[Lam. sits down on Lov.

Lam. My only Dear, be patient; hah!—Something moves under me; Treason, Treason! [He rises.

[Lov. rolls off, and turns Lam. over, the rest of the Men run out crying Treason, Treason, overthrowing the Lights, putting ’em out.

L. Lam. Treason, Treason! my Lord, my Lord!

Lam. Lights there, a Plot, a Popish Plot, Lights!

L. Lam. The Crown, the Crown, guard the Crown!

[She groping about, finds Lov. by his Clothes, knows him.

—Here, take this Key, the next room is my Bed-chamber, Secure yourself a moment.— [Ex. Loveless.

Lights there, the Crown—who art thou? [Takes hold of Lam.

Lam. ’Tis I.

L. Lam. Ah, my Lord, what’s the matter?—

Lam. Nay, my Lady, I ask you what’s the matter?

Enter Page with Lights.

By Heaven, all is not well; hark ye, my fine she Politician, who was it you had hid beneath this Carpet?

L. Lam. Heav’ns! dost hear him, Gilliflower? Sure the Fellow’s mad.

Gill. Alack, my Lord, are you out of your honourable Wits? Heav’n knows, my Lady was at her Devotion.

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Lam. Baud, come, confess thy self to be one. At her Devotion! yes, with a He Saint.

Gill. Ah! Gad forbid the Saints should be so wicked.

L. Lam. Hark ye, thou little sniveling Hypocrite, who hast no Virtue but a little Conduct in Martial Discipline; who hast by Perjuries, Cheats, and pious Villanies, wound thy self up into the Rabble’s Favour, where thou mayst stand till some more great in Roguery remove thee from that height, or to the Gallows, if the King return: hast thou the Impudence to charge my Virtue?

Lam. I know not, Madam, whether that Virtue you boast were lost, or only stak’t, and ready for the Gamester; but I am sure a Man was hid under this Carpet.

L. Lam. Oh Heav’ns, a Man!

Gill. Lord, a Man! Are you sure ’twas a Man, my Lord?—Some villanous Malignant, I’ll warrant.

Lam. It may be so.

Gill. Alack, the Wickedness of these Heroicks to hide under Carpets; why they’l have the impudence to hide under our Petticoats shortly, if your Highness take ’em not down. [To Lady Lam.

Lam. I do believe so; Death—a Cuckold? shall that black Cloud shade all my rising Fame?

Lam. Stay—be not so rash; who was beneath the Carpet?

L. Lam. I will not answer thee.

Lam. Nor any living thing?

L. Lam. No Creature in the Room, thou silly Ideot, but Gilliflower and I—at our Devotion, praying to Heav’n for your Success to morrow—and am I thus rewarded?

[Weeps, Gill. weeps too.

Lam. My Soul, I cannot bear the Sight of Tears From these dear Charming Eyes.

L. Lam. No matter, Sir, the Committee shall right me.

Lam. Upon my Knees I ask thy Pardon, Dear; by all that’s good, I wou’d have sworn I’d felt something stir beneath me as I sat, which threw me over.

L. Lam. Only your Brains turn’d round with too much drinking and dancing, Exercises you are not us’d to—go sleep, and settle ’em, for I’ll not deign to Bed with you to night—retire, as e’er you hope to have my Aid in your Advancement to the Crown.

Lam. I’m gone—and once more pardon my Mistake. [Bows, and goes out. Ex. Gill.

Enter Gill. Loveless.

Lov. Excellent Creature, how I do adore thee!

L. Lam. But you, perhaps, are satisfied already—

Lov. Never; shou’dst thou be kind to all Eternity. Thou hast one Virtue more, I pay thee Homage for; I heard from the Alcove how great a Mistress thou art in the dear Mystery of Jilting.

L. Lam. That’s the first Lesson Women learn in Conventicles, Religion teaches those Maxims to our Sex: by this

ACT V.

Scene I. A Street.

Enter Corporal, half drest; with Soldiers, Joyner, and Felt-maker.

Cor. Ha, Rogues, the City-Boys are up in Arms; brave Boys, all for the King now!

Felt. Have a care what you say, Sir; but as to the City’s being in Mutiny, that makes well for us: we shall fall to our old Trade of plundering; something will fall to the Righteous, and there is Plunder enough.

Cor. You plunder, Sirrah! knock him down, and carry him into the Guard-room, and secure him.

[Two Soldiers seize him.

1 Sold. They say the Committee of Safety sate all Night at General Lambert’s, about some great Affair—some rare Change, Rogues.

2 Sold. Yes, and to put off Sorrow, they say, were all right reverendly drunk too.

Cor. I suppose there is some heavenly matter in hand; there was Treason cried out at the General’s last night, and the Committee of no Safety all ran away.

1 Sold. Or rather reel’d away.

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Cor.