The town-fopp, or, Sir Timothy Tawdrey a comedy : as it is acted at His Royal Highness the Duke's theatre / written by Mrs. A. Behn.

The Scene a Street.

Enter Celinda, drest as before.

Cel.

Not one kind Wound to send me to my Grave, And yet between their angry Swords I ••an, Expecting it from Bellmour, or my Brothers. Oh my hard Fate! that gave me so much Misery,

And dealt no Courage, to prevent the shock. —Why came •• off alive, that fatal place Where I beheld my Bellmour, in th' embrace Of my extremely fair, and lovely Rival; —With what kind care she did prevent my Arm (Who greedy of the last sad pa••ting twine) I wou'd have thrown about him, as if she knew To what intent I made the passionate offer. —What have I next to do, but seek a death Where ever I can meet it—Who comes here?

[Goes asid••.

Enter Sir Timothy, Sham and Sharp, with Fidlers and Boy.

Sir Tim.

I believe this is the Bed-chamber Window where the Bride and the Bridegroom lies.

Sham.

Well, and what do you intend to do, if it be Sir?

Sir Tim.

Why first sing a Bawdy Song, and then break the Windows, in Revenge for the Affront was put upon me to night.

Sharp.

Faith, Sir, that's but a poor Revenge, and which every Foot∣man may take of his Lady, who has turn'd him away for filching— You know, Sir, Windows are frail, and will yield to the lusty Brick-bats; 'tis an Act below a Gentleman.

Sir Tim.

That's all one, 'tis my Recreation; I serv'd a Woman so the other night, to whom my Mistriss had a Pique.

Sham.

Ay, Sir, 'tis a Revenge fit only for a Whore to take— And the Affront you receiv'd ••o night, was by mistake.

Sir Tim.

Mistake! how can that be?

Sham.

Why, Sir, did you not mind, that he that drew upon Bellmour, was in the same dress with you?

Sir Tim.

How shou'd his be like mine?

Sham.

Why by the same chance, that yours was like his—I suppose sending to the Play-house for them, as we did, they hapned to send him such another ••abit, for they have many such for dancing Shepherds.

Sir Tim.

Well I grant it a mistake, and that shall repri••ve the Win∣dows.

Sharp.

Then, Sir, you shew'd so much courage, that you may bless the minute that forc'd you to fight.

Sir Tim.

Ay, but between you and I, 'twas well he kick'd me first, and made me angry, or I had been ••ustily swing'd, by Fortune—but thanks to my spleen that sav'd my bones that ••bou••—but then I did well —hah! came briskly off, and the rest.

Sham.

With honour▪ Sir, I protest.

Sir Tim

Come then, we'll Serenade him. Come, Sirra, ••une your Pipes, and sing.

Boy.

What shall I sing, Sir?

Sir Tim.

Any thing sutable to the time and place.

SONG.

1.

The happy Minute's come, the Nymph is laid, Who means no more to rise a Maid Blushing, and panting, she expects the approch Of Ioyes that kill with every touch; Nor can her Native modesty and shame Conceal the Ardour of her Virgin flame.

2.

And now the Amorous Youth is all undrest, Iust ready for Loves mighty Feast, With vigorous haste the Vail aside he throws, That does all Heaven at once disclose; Swift as desire, into her naked Arms Himself he throws, and rifles all her Charms.

God morrow Mr. Bellmour, and to your lovely Bride, long may you live, and love.

Enter Bellmour above.

Bell.

Who is't, has sent that Curse?

Sir Tim.

What a pox is that Bellmour? The Rogue's in choler, the Bride has not pleas'd him.

Bell.

Dogs! De you upbraid me? ••••ll be with you presently.

Sir Tim.

Will you so—but I'll not stay your coming.

Cel.

But you shall, Sir.

Bell.

Turn Villains!

[Sir Tim. &c. offers to go off, Celinda steps forth, and draws, they draw, and s••t upon her. Enter Bellmour behind them: They turn, and Celinda sides with Bellmour, and fights. Enter Dia. Bellmour ••igh•••• 'em out, and leaves Celinda breathless, lea••ing on her Sword.

Dia.

I'll ne'r demand the cause of this disorder, But take this opportunity to flie To the next hands will take me up—who's here!

Cel.

Not yet, my sullen heart!

Dia.

Who's here? one wounded—alas—

Cel.

'Tis not so lucky—but who art thou That dost with so much pity, ask?

Dia.

He seems a Gentleman—handsom, and young—

[Aside.

Pray ask no questions, Sir, but if you're what you seem, Give a Protection to an unhappy Maid. —Do not reply, but let us haste away.

Cel.

Hah—What do I hear! sure 'tis Diana. —Madam, with haste, and joy, I'll serve you. —I'll carry her to my own Lodgings. Fortune, in this, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 done my Suff'rings right, My Rival's in my Power, upon her Wedding night.

[Aside.

[Exeunt.

Enter Bellmour, Sir Tim. Sham and Sharp.

Sir Tim.

Lord, Lord, that you should not know, your friend and hum∣ble servant, Tim. Tawdrey—But thou lookst as if thou hadst not been a Bed yet.

Bell.

No more I have.

Sir Tim.

Nay then thou losest precious time, I'll not detain thee.

[Offers to go.

Bell.

Tho•• art mistaken, I hate all Woman-kind—

Sir Tim.

How, how!

Bell.

Above an hour—heark ye Knight—I am as lewd, and as debaucht as thou art.

Sir Tim.

What do you mean Franck?

Bell.

To tell a truth, which yet I never did. —I Whore, Drink, Game, Swear, Lye, Cheat, Rob, Pimp, Hector, All, All I do that's vicious.

Sir Tim.

Bless me!

Bell.

From such a Villain, hah!

Sir Tim.

No, but that thou shouldst hide it all this while.

Bell.

Till I was married only, and now I can dissemble it no longer— come—let's to a Bawdy-house.

Sir Tim.

A Bawdy-house! What already! This is the very qui••tessence of L••wdness. —Why I thought that I was wicked, but by Fortune, This dashes mine quite out of countenance.

Bell.

Oh thou'rt a puny sinner!—I'll teach thee Arts▪ (so rare) of sin, the least of them shall damn thee.

Sir Tim.

By Fortune, Franck, I do not like these Arts.

Bell.

Then thou'rt a Fool—I'll teach thee to be rich too.

Sir Tim.

Ay, that I like.

Bell.

Look here my Boyes!

[Holds up his Writings—which he takes out of his Pockets.

The Writings of 3000 l. a year. —All this I got by Perjury.

Sir Tim.

By Fortune a thriving Sin.

Bell.

And we will live in Sin while this holds out. —And then to my cold Home—Come let's ••e gone. —O•• that I ••e'r might see the Rising Sun.

[Ex.

The End of the Third Act.