The feign'd curtizans, or, A nights intrigue a comedy : as it is acted at the Dukes Theatre / written by Mrs. A. Behn.

SCENE II.

Draws off, and discovers Mr. Tickletext a Trimming, his hair under a Cap, a cloath before him, and Petro Snaps his fingers, takes away the Bason, and goes to wiping his face.

• Tickletext
• and Petro.

Pet.

Ah che Bella! Bella! I swear by these sparkling Eyes, and these soft Plump dimpl'd cheeks, there's not a Signiora in all Rome, cou'd she behold 'em, were able to stand their Temptations, and for La Silvianetta, my life on't she's your own.

Tick.

Teze, teze, speak softly!—but honest Barberacho, do I, do I indeed look plump, and young, and fresh and—hah!

Pet.

Ay Sir, as the Rosie Morn, young, as old Time in his Infan∣cie, and plump as the Pale-fac't Moon.

Tick.

He—Whe this Travelling must needs improve a Man,—Whe how admirably well spoken your very Barbers are here,—

[Aside.]

—but Barberacho, did the young Gentlewoman say she lik't me? did she Rogue? did she?

Pet.

A doated on you Signior, doated on you.

Tick.

Whe, and that's strange now, in the Autumn of my Age too, when Nature began to be impertinent, as a man may say, that a young Lady shou'd fall in love with me———

[Aside.

——Whe Barberacho, I do not conceive any great matter of Sin only in visi∣ting a Lady that loves a man, hah.

Pet.

Sin Sir, 'tis a frequent thing now adays in Persons of your Complexion.

Tick.

Especially here at Rome too, where 'tis no Scandal.

Pet.

Ay Signior, where the Ladys are Priviledg'd, and Fornication Licenc't.

Tick.

Right! and when 'tis Licens'd 'tis Lawful, and when 'tis Lawful it can be no Sin: besides Barberacho, I may chance to turn her, who knows!

Pet.

Turn her Signior, Alass any way, which way you please.

Tick.

He he he! There thou wert knavish, I doubt—but I mean Convert her—Nothing else I profess Barberacho.

Pet.

True Signior, true, she's a Lady of an easy Nature, and an Indifferent Argument well handled will do't—ha—

[combing out his Hair.

here's your head of Hair—here's your Natural Frize! And such an Ayr it gives the Face!—So Signior—Now you have the utmost my Art can do.

[takes away the cloth and bows.

Tick.

Well Signior:—and where's your looking-glass.

Pet.

My looking-glass.

Tick.

Yes Signior your Looking-glass! an English Barber wou'd as soon have forgotten to have snapt his fingers, made his leg, or taken his Money, as have neglected his looking-glass.

Pet.

Aye Signior, in your Countrey the Laiety have so little ho∣nesty, they are not to be trusted with the taking off your Beard unless you see't done,—but heres a Glass, Sir,

[gives him the Glass.

[Tick. Sets himself and smirks in the Glass, Pet. standing behinde him, making horns and grimaces, which Tick. sees in the Glass, gravely rises, turns towards Petro.

Tick.

Whe how now, Barberacho, what Monstrous faces are you making there?

Pet.

Ah my Belly, my Belly, Signior: ah, this Wind-Collick! this Hypocondriach does so torment me! ah—

Tick.

Alass poor Knave; certo, I thought thou hadst been some∣what uncivil with me, I profess I did;

Pet.

Who I Sir, uncivil?—I abuse my Patrone?—I that have al∣most made my self a Pimp to serve you?

Tick.

Teze teze, honest Barberacho! no, no, no, all's well, all's well:—but hark y'—you will be discreet and secret in this business now, and above all things conceal the knowledge of this Gentlewoman from Sir Signall and Mr. Galliard.

Pet.

The Rack Signior, the Rack shall not extort it.

Tick.

Hold thy hand—there's somewhat for thee,

[gives him money.

but shall I Rogue—shall I see her to night?——

Pet.

To night Sir, meet me in the Piatza D'hispagnia, about 10 a Clock,—I'le meet you there,—but 'tis sit Signior—that I should provide a Collation,—'tis the Custom here Sir.——

Tick.

Well, well, what will it come to,—here's an Angel—

Pet.

Whe Sir 'twill come to—about—for you wou'd do't han∣somely—some twenty Crowns.—

Tick.

How man, twenty Crowns?

Pet.

Ay Signior, thereabouts.

Tick.

Twenty Crowns—Whe 'tis a Sum, a Portion, a Revenue.

Pet.

Alass Signior, 'tis nothing with her,—she'le look it out in an hour,—ah such an Eye! so sparkling, with an Amorous twire—thus Sir—then she'le kiss it out in a moment,—such a Lip, so red, so round, and so plump, so soft, and so—

Tick.

Why has she, has she, Sirrah—hah—here, here, prethee take Money, here, and make no words on't—go, go your way, go—but to entertain Sir Signall with other matter, pray send his Masters to him; if thou canst help him to Masters, and me to Mistresses, thou shalt be the good Genius of us both: but see where he comes.—

Enter Sir Signall.

Sir Sig.

Hah! Sigmor Illustrissimo Barberacho, let me hugg thee my little Miphistophiloucho—de yee see here, how fine your Brokering Jew has made me, Segnior Rabbi Manaseth—Ben-Nebiton, and so sorth; hah—View me round——

[turns round.

Tick.

I profess 'tis as sit as if it had been made for you.

Sir Sig.

Made for me—Whe Sir, he swore to me by the old Law, that 'twas never worn but once, and that but by one high-German Prince—I have sorgot forgot his name—for the Devil can never remem∣ber these damn'd Hogan-Mogan Titles.

[a fart.

Tick.

No matter, Sir.

Sir Sig.

Ay, but I shou'd be loth to be in any mans clothes, were he never so high a German-Prince, except I knew his name tho.

Tick.

Sir, I hold his Name unnecessary to be remembred, so long as 'twas a Princely penniworth.—Barberacho get you gone, and send the Masters.

[Ex. Petro.

Sir Sig.

Why how now Governour! how now Signior Tickletext! prethee how cam'st thou so transmograsi'd, ha? whe thou look'st like any new-fledg'd Cupid.

Tick.

Do I, away you flatter, Do I?

Sir Sig.

As I hope to breathe, your face shines through your pow∣der'd hairs like you know what on a barn-door, in a frosty morning.

Tick.

What a filthy comparison's there for a man of my coat.

Sir Sig.

What, angry—Corpo di me, I meant no harm,—Come, shall's to a Bonar•…•…ba, where thou shalt part with thy pusilage, and that of thy beard together.

Tick.

How mean you Sir, a Curtizan, and a Romish Curtizan?

Sir Sig.

Now my Tuter's up, ha ha ha,—and ever is when one names a whore; be pacifi'd man, be pacifi'd, I know thou hat'st 'em worse then beads or holy-water.

Tick.

Away you are such another Knight—but leave this Naughty discourse, and prepare for your Fencing and Civility-Masters, who are coming,

Sir Sig.

Ay, when Governour, when; oh how I long for my Civili∣ty-Master, that I may learn to out-complement all the dull Knights and Squires in Kent, with a Servitore Hulichimo—No signiora Bellissima, base le Mane, de vos signiora scusamia Illustrissimo, caspeto de Bacco, and so I'le run on, hah Governor, hah! won't this be pure?

Tick.

Notably Ingenious, I profess!

Sir Sig.

Well I'le send my Staffiera for him incontinente.—he, Jack—a—Cazo, what a Damn'd English name is Jack? let me see—I will call him—Giovanni, which is as much as to say John!—he Gio∣vanni.

[Enter Jack.

Tick.

Sir, by your favour his English Protestant-Name is John Pep∣per; and I'le call him by ne're a Popish name in Christiandom.

Sir Sig.

I'le call my own man Sir, by what name I please Sir; and let me tell you Reverend Mr. Tickletext, I scorn to be serv'd by any man who's name has not an Acho, or an Oucho, or some Italliano at the end on't—therefore Giovanni Peperacho is the name by which you shall be distinguisht and dignify'd hereafter.

Tick.

Sir Signall, Sir Signall, let me tell you, that to call a man out of his name is unwarantable, for Peter is call'd Peter, and John, John, and I'le not see the poor fellow wrong'd of his name for nere a Giovan∣ni in Rome.

Sir Sig.

Sir I tell you that one Itallian Name is worth any two En∣glish names in Europe, and I'le be judg'd by my Civility-Master.

Tick.

Who shall end the dispute, if he be of my Opinion.

Sir Sig

Multo vollentiero, which is as much as to say, with all my heart.

Jack.

But Sir, my Grandmother wou'd never own me if I should change the cursen name she gave me with her own hands, an't please your Worship.

Sir Sig.

He Bestia! I'le have no more of your Worship, firrah, that old English Sir Reverence, let me have you call me Signior Illustrissimo, or Patrona Mea.—or—

Tick.

I, that I like well enough now:—but hold, sure this is one of your Masters.

Enter Petro drest like a French Fencing Master.

Pet.

Signior Barberacho has sent me to teach you de Art of Fencing.

Sir Sig.

Illustrissimo Signior Monsicur, I am the Person who am to learn.

Tick.

Stay Sir stay,—let me ask him some few questions first, for Sir I have play'd at Back-Sword and cou'd have handled ye a weapon as well as any man of my time in the University.

Sir Sig.

Say you so Mr. Tickletext, and I'faith you shall have about with him.

[Tick. Gravely goes to Petro.

Tick.

Hum—hum—Mr. Monsieur—pray what are the Guards that you like best?

Pet.

Monsieur, eder de Quart or de Terse, dey be both French and Itallian; den for your Parades, degagements, your advancements, your Eloynements, and Retierments: dey be de same;

Tick.

Cart and Horse, what new found inventions and words have we here,—Sir I wou'd know, whether you like St. Georges Guard or not.

Pet.

Alon—Monsieur, Mette vous en Guard! take de Flurette.

Sir Sig.

Nay saith and troth Governor thou shat have a Rubbers with him.

[Tick. Smiling refuses.

Tick.

Nay certo Sir Signal,—and yet you shall prevail;—well Sir. come your ways?

[Takes the fluret.

Pet.

Set your right foot forward, turn up your hand so—dat be de Quart—Now turn it dus—and dat be de Terse.

Tick.

Hocus, Pocus, Hicksius, Doxius—here be de Cart and here be de Horse—why what's all this for, hah Sir—and where's your guard all this while?

Sir Sig.

Ay Sir where's your Guard Sir, as my Governor says, Sir, hah?

Tick.

Come, come, Sir, I must instruct you I see—Come your ways Sir.—

Pet.

A Tande a Tande non pew,—trust de right hand and de right leg forward together.—

Tick.

I marry Sir, that's a good one indeed! what shall become of my head then Sir, what Guard have I left for that good Mr. Monsieur. hah?

Pet.

Ah Morblew, is not dis for every ting?

Tick.

No marry is it not Sir, St. Georges Guard is the best for your head whilst you live,——as thus Sir.—

Pet.

Dat Sir, ha ha—dat be Guard for de Back-Sword.

Tick.

Back-sword Sir, yes, Back-sword, what should it be else.

Pet.

And dis be de Single-Rapier.

Tick.

Single-Rapier with a vengeance, there's a weapon for a Gentleman indeed; is all this stir about Single-Rapier?

Pet.

Single-Rapier! What will you have for de Gentleman, de Cudgell for de Gentleman?

Tick.

No Sir, but I wou'd have it for de Rascally French-man who comes to abuse persons of Quality with Paltry Single-Rapier.—Single Rapier! Come Sir, come,—put your self in your Cart and your Horse as you call it, and I'le shew you the difference.

Undresses himself till he appears in a Ridiculous Posture.

Pet.

Ah Monsieur me sall run you two three times through de body, and den you break a me head, what care I for dat:—Pox on his ig∣norance!

[Aside.

Tick.

Oh ho Sir, do your worst Sir, do your worst Sir.

They put themselves into several Guards, and Tick. beats Pet. about the Stage—Enter Gall. Fill. and Jul.

Pet.

Ah Monsieur, Monsieur, will you kill a me?

Tick.

Ah Monsieur where be your Carts now and your Horse, Mr. Monsieur, hah!—and your Single-Rapier Mr. Monsieur hah!—

Gall.

Why how now Mr. Tickletext, what mortal wars are these? Ajax and Ulisses contending for Achillis his Armour?

Pet.

If I be not reveng'd on him, hang me:

[Aside.

Sir Sig.

Ay, why who the Devil wou'd have taken my Governor for so tall a man of hands, but Corpo de me Mr. Galliard, I have not seen his Fellow.

Tick.

Ah Sir, time was, I wou'd have play'd ye a Match at Cudgells with e're a Sophister in the Colledge, but verily I have forgotten it, but here's an impudent French-man that wou'd have past Single-Ra∣pier upon us.

Gall.

How, nay a my word then he deserv'd to be chastis'd sor't.——but now all's at peace again; Pray know my kinsman, Sir Harry Fillamour.

Sir Sig.

Yo baco les manos, Signior Illustrissimo Cavaliero,—and yours Signiors who are Multo bien Venito;

Tick.

Oh Lord Sir, you take me Sir—in such a posture Sir—as I protest I have not been seen in this many years.

[Dressing himself whilst he talks.

Fill.

Exercise is good for health Sir.

Gall.

Sir Signal, Yo•…•… are grown a perfect Itallian? Well Mr. Tickle∣text you will carry him home a most accomplish't Gentleman I see!

Tick.

Hum, verily Sir though I say it, for a man that never travell'd before, I think I have done reasonably well;—I'le tell you Sir—it was by my directions and advice, that he brought over with him,—two English knives, a thousand of English pins, four pair of Jersey stockings, and as many pair of B•…•…ck-skin Gloves.

Sir Sig.

Ay Sir, for good Gloves you know are very scarce comodi∣ties in this Country.

Jul.

Here Sir at Rome, as you say, above all other places.

Tick.

Certo meer hedging-Gloves Sir, and the clouterlest seams.—

Fill.

Very right Sir,—and now he talks of Rome,—Pray Sir give me your opinion of the place?—are there not Noble buildings here? rare statues, and admirable Fountains?

Tick.

Your buildings are pretty buildings, but not comparable to our University-buildings; your Fountains I confess are pretty Springs,—and your statues reasonably well carv'd—but Sir, they are so ancient they are of no vallue! then your Churches are the worst that ever I saw—that ever I saw.

Gall.

How Sir, the Churches, why I thought Rome had been famous throughout all Europe for fine Churches.

Fill.

What think you of St. Peters Church Sir, Is it not a glorious structure?

Tick.

St. Peters Church Sir, you may as well call it St. Peters Hall Sir; it has neither Pew, Pullpit, Desk, Steeple, nor Ring of Bells, and call you this a Church Sir? no Sir, I'le say that for little England, and a fig for't, for Churches, easy •…•…ulpits

[Sir Sig. speaks, and sleeping Pews,]

they are as well order'd as any Churches in Christiandom: and •…•…er Rings of Bells Sir, I'am sure were never heard.

Jul.

Oh Sir there's much in what you say.

Fill.

But then Sir, your Rich Altars, and excellent Pictures of the greatest Masters of the World, your delicate Musick, and Voices, make some amends for the other wants.

Tick.

How Sir! tell me of your Rich Altars, your guegaws and trin∣kets, and Popish Foperies! with a deal of sing-song—when I say give me Sir five hundred close changes rung by a set of good Ringers, and I'le not exchange 'em for all the Anthens in Europe: and for the Pi∣ctures Sir, they are superstition, Idolatrous, and flat Popery.

Fill.

I'le convince you of that errour that perswades you harmless Pictures are Idolatrous.

Tick.

How Sir, how Sir, convince me, talk to me of being convinc't and that in favour of Popery; No Sir, by your favour I shall not be convinc't, convinc't quoth a—No Sir far you well an you be for con∣vincing, come away Sir Signall, far you well Sir, far you well—con∣vin'ct.

[goes out.

Sir Sig.

Ha, ha, ha, so now is my Governor gone in a Fustian-fume, well, he is ever thus when one talks of whoring and Religion, but come Sir walk in, and I'le undertake my Tutor shall beg your pardon and renoun•…•…e his English ill-bred opinion; Nay, his English Churches too—all but his own Vicaridge.

Fill.

I have better diversion Sir I thank you—come Julio, are you for a walk in the Garden of Medices Villa, 'tis hard by?—

Jul.

I'le wait on you—

[Ex. Fill. and Julio.

Sir Sig.

How in the Garden of Medices Villa—but harkey Galliard, will the Ladies be there, the Curtizans! the bona roba's, the inamora∣ta's, and the Bell ingrato's, hah?

Gall.

Oh doubtless Sir;

[Ex. Gall.

Sir Sig.

I'le ene bring my Governor thither to beg his Pardon, on purpose to get an Opportunity to see the fine Women; it may be I may get a sight of my new Mistress, Dona Silvianetta whom Petro is to bring me acquainted with.

[Exeunt.