Loves last shift, or, The fool in fashion a comedy : as it is acted at the Theatre Royal by His Majestys servants / written by C. Cibber.

The SCENE Sir William Wisewou'd's House.

Enter Amanda and Hillaria Meeting.

Am.

MY Dear, I have News for you.

Hill.

I guess at it: And wou'd be fain satisfied of the Particulars: Your Husband is returned, and I hear knows nothing of your being alive: Young Worthy has told me of your design up∣on him.

Am.

T'is that I wanted your advice in; what think you of it?

Hill.

O! I admire it: Next to forgetting your Hus∣band, tis the Best Council was ever given you; for un∣der the Disguise of Mistress, you may now take a fair advantage of Indulging your Love, and the little Ex∣perience you have had of it already, has been just enough not to let you be afraid of a Man.

Am.

Will you never leave your Mad humour?

Hill.

Not till my youth leaves me: Why should Women affect Ignorance among themselves, when we converse with Men indeed? Modesty and Good Breed∣ing Oblige us not to understand, what sometimes we can't help thinking of.

Am.

Nay I don't think the worse of you for what you say: For 'tis observed that a Bragging Lover, and an over shy-Lady, are the farthest from what they would seem; the One is as seldom known to receive a Favour, as the other to Resist an Opportunity.

Hill.

Most Women have a wrong Sense of Mode∣sty, as some Men of Courage; if you don't Fight with all you Meet, or Run from all you see, you are presently thought a Coward, or an ill Woman.

Am.

You say true, and tis as hard a matter now a days for a Woman to know how to converse with Men, as for a man to know, when to draw his Sword: For many times both Sexes are apt to over-act their Parts: To me the Rules of Virtue have been ever sacred; and I am loath to break 'em by an unadvi∣sed Understanding: Therefore, dear Hillaria, help me, for I am at a loss—Can I justifie, think you, my intended design upon my Husband?

Hill.

As how, Prithee?

Am.

Why, if I Court and Conquer him, as a Mi∣stress, am not I accessary to his violating the Bonds of Marriage? For though I am his Wife, yet while he Loves me not as such, I encourage an Unlawful Passion; and though the Act be safe, yet his Intent is Criminal: How can I answer this?

Hill.

Very Easily, for if he don't intridgue with you, he will with some Body else in the mean time, and I think you have as much Right to his Remains as any one.

Am.

Ay! but I am assured the love he will pretend to me is vicious: And tis Uncertain, that I shall pre∣vent his doing worse elsewhere.

Hill.

Tis true, a Certain Ill ought not to be done for an Uncertain Good. But then again of two Evils choose the least; and sure tis less Criminal to let him love you as a Mistress, than to let him hate you as a Wife: If you Succeed I suppose you will easily for∣give your Guilt in the Undertaking.

Am.

To say truth, I find no Argument yet strong enough to conquer my Inclination to it. But is their no danger think you of his knowing me?

Hill.

Not the least, in my opinion: In the first place he confidently believes you are Dead: Then he has not seen you these eight or ten Years: Besides, you were not above sixteen when he left you: This with the alteration the small-Pox have made in you, (tho' not for the worse,) I think are sufficient Disguises to secure you from his knowledge.

Am.

Nay and to this I may add the considerable amendment of my Fortune; for when he left me I had only my bare Jointure for a Subsistence: Beside my strange manner of receiving him.

Hill.

That's what I wou'd fain be acquainted with.

Am.

I expect further instructions from Young Wor∣thy every Moment; then you shall know all, my Dear.

Hill.

Nay he will do you no small service: For a Thief is the best Thief-catcher.

Enter a Servant to Amanda,

Ser.

Madam, your Servant is below, who says Young Mr. Worthy's Man waits at your Lodgings with earnest business from his Master.

Am.

Tis well—Come, my Dear I must have your assistance too.

Hill.

With all my Heart, I love to be at the bot∣tom of a Secret: For they say the Confident of any Amour, has sometimes more pleasure, in the Observa∣tion, than the parties concern'd in the Enjoyment: But

methinks, you don't look with a good Heart upon the Business.

Am.

I can't help a little concern in a Business of such Moment: For though my Reason tells me my Design must prosper; yet my Fears say 'twere Happiness too great.—Oh! to reclaim the Man I'm bound by Heaven to Love, to expose the Folly of a Roving Mind in pleasing him with what he seem'd to loath, were such a sweet Revenge for slighted Love, so vast a Triumph of rewarded Constancy, as might perswade the Looser part of Womankind ev'n to for∣sake themselves, and fall in Love with Virtue.

Re-Enter the Servant to Hillaria.

Serv.

Sir Novelty Fashion is below in his Coach, Madam, and enquires for your Ladiship, or Madam Narcissa.

Hill.

You know my Cousin is gone out with my Lady Tattle-tongue: I hope you did not tell him I was within!

Serv.

No, Madam, I did not know if your Ladiship wou'd be spoke with, and therefore came to see.

Hill.

Then tell him I went with her.

Serv.

I shall, Madam.

[Exit Servant.

Hill.

You must know, my Dear, I have sent to that Fury Mrs. Flareit, whom this Sir Novelty keeps, and have stung her to some purpose with an account of his Passion for my Cousin: I ow'd him a Quarrel for that he made between Mr. Worthy and me, and I hope her Jealousy will severely revenge it; Therefore I sent my Cousin out of the way, because unknown to her, her Name is at the bottom of my Design.—Here he comes, Prithee, my Dear, let's go down the Back-Stairs, and take Coach from the Garden.—

[Ex. Am. and Hill.

Re-Enter the Servant Conducting Sir Novelty.

Sir Nov.

Both the Ladies abroad say you? I Sir William within?

Serv.

Yes Sir, if you please to walk in, I'll acquaint him that you expect him here.

Sir Nov.

Do so Prithee—and in the mean time let me consider what I have to say to him—Hold! In the first place his Daughter is in Love with me! Wou'd I marry her? Noh! Demm it, 'tis Mechanical to marry the Woman you Love: Men of Quality shou'd always marry those they never saw—But I hear Young Wor∣thy marries her to Morrow! which if I prevent not, will spoil my design upon her? Let me see!—I have it— I'll perswade the old Fellow, that I wou'd marry her my self! upon which he immediately rejects Young Worthy, and gives me free access to her! Good! What follows upon that? Opportunity, Importunity,—Re∣sestance, Force, Intreaty, Persisting!—Doubting, Swear∣ing, Lying—Blushes, Yielding, Victory, Pleasure!— Indifference, O! here he comes in ordine ad.—

Enter Sir William Wisewoud.

Sir Will.

Sir Novelty, your Servant, have you any commands for me, Sir?

Sir Nov.

I have some Proposals to make, Sir, con∣cerning your Happiness and my own, which perhaps will surprize you. In a word Sir, I am upon the very brink of Matrimony.

Sir Will.

'Tis the best thing you can pursue, Sir, considering you have a good Estate.

Sir Nov.

But whom do you think I intend to marry?

Sir Will.

I can't imagine, dear Sir, be brief, least your delay transport me into a Crime I wou'd avoid, which is Impatience. Sir, pray go on.

Sir Nov.

In fine, Sir, 'tis to your very Daughter, the Fair Narcissa.

Sir W.

Humh! Pray, Sir, how long have you had this in your head?

Sir Nov.

Above these two hours, Sir.

Sir Will.

Very Good! then you han't slept upon't?

Sir Nov.

No! nor shan't sleep, for thinking on't; did not I tell you I wou'd surprize you?

Sir Will.

O! you have indeed, Sir, I am amaz'd! I am amaz'd!

Sir Nov.

Well, Sir, and what think you of my Pro∣posal?

Sir Will.

Why truly, Sir, I like it not: But if I did, 'tis now too late; my Daughter is dispos'd of to a Gen∣tleman, that she and I like very well; at present, Sir, I have a little Business, if this be all, your humble Ser∣vant, I am in haste.

Sir Nov.

Demmee! what an insensible Blockhead's this? Hold, Sir, dee hear—is this all the Acknowledg∣ment you make for the Honour I design'd you?

Sir Will.

Why truly, Sir, 'tis an Honour, that I am not ambitious of: In plain terms, I do not like you for a Son-in-Law.

Sir Nov.

Now you speak to the purpose, Sir: But prithee what are thy Exceptions to me?

Sir Will.

Why in the first place, Sir, you have too great a Passion for your own Person to have any for your Wives: In the next place you take such an Extravagant Care in the Cloathing your Body, that your Understanding goes naked for't: Had I a Son so dress'd, I shou'd take the liberty to call him an Egregi∣ous Fop.

Sir Nov.

I Gad thou art a Comical old Gentleman, and I'll tell thee a Secret: Understand then, Sir, from me, that all Young Fellows hate the name of Fop, as Women do the name of Whore: But I'Gad they both Love the pleasure of being so: Nay Faith, and 'tis as

as hard a matter for some Men to be Fops, as you call 'em, as 'tis for some Women to be Whores.

Sir Will.

That's pleasant, I Faith, can't any Man be a Fop, or any Woman be a Whore, that has a mind to't?

Sir Nov.

No Faith, Sir; for let me tell you, 'tis not the Coldness of my Lady Freelove's Inclination: But her Age and Wrinkles that won't let her Cuckold her Husband: And again, 'tis not Sir Iohn Wou'dlook's Aversion to Dress; but his want of a fertile Genius, that won't let him look like a Gentleman: Therefore in Vindication of all well dress'd Gentleman, I intend to write a Play, where my Chiefest Character shall be a down-right English Booby, that affects to be a Beau, without either Genius, or Foreign Education, and to call it in Imitation of another famous Comedy, He wou'd if he cou'd, and now, I think, you are answer'd, Sir; have you any Exceptions to my Birth, or Family, pray Sir?

Sir Will.

Yes, Sir, I have, you seem to me the Off-spring of more than one Man's Labour: For cer∣tainly no less, than a Dancing Singing, and Fencing-Master, with a Taylor, Milliner, Perfumer, Peruque-Maker, and French Vallet de Chambre, cou'd be at the Begetting of you.

Sir Nov.

All these have been at the Finishing of me since I was made.

Sir Will.

That is, Heaven made you a Man, and they have made a Monster of you: And so farewel to yee!

[is going.]

Sir Nov.

hark yee Sir, am I to expect no farther satisfaction in the Proposals I made you?

Sir Will.

Sir—Nothing makes a Man loss him∣self like Passion: Now I presume you are Young, and consequently Rash upon a Disappointment, therefore to prevent any difference that may arise by repeat∣ing my refusal of your Suit; I do not think it conve∣nient to hold any farther Discourse with you.

Sir Nov.

Nay Faith thou shalt stay to hear a little more of my mind first.

Sir Will.

Since you press me, Sir, I will rather bear than resist you.

Sir Nov.

I doubt, Old Gentleman, you have such a Torrent of Philosophy running throngh your Pe∣ricranium, that it has washt your Brains away.

Sir Will.

Pray, Sir, why do you think so?

Sir Nov.

Because you Choose a beggerly unac∣countable sort of Younger Brotherish Rake-hell for you Son-in-Law, before a Man of Quality, Estate, good Parts and Breeding, Demmy.

Sir Will.

Truly, Sir, I know neither of the Per∣sons to whom these Characters belong, if you please to write their Names under 'em, perhaps I may tell you, if they be like or no.

Sir Nov.

Why then, in short, I wou'd have been your Son-in-Law; and you, it seems, prefer Young Worthy before me. Now are your Eyes open?

Sir Will.

Had I been blind, Sir, you might have been my Son-in-Law, and if you were not blind you wou'd not think, that I design my Daughter for Young Worthy—his Brother, I think, may deserve her.

Sir Nov.

Then you are not Jealous of Young Wor∣thy! humh!

Sir Will.

No really, Sir, nor of you neither.

Sir Nov.

Give me thy hand, thou art very hap∣py: Stop my Vitals: For thou dost not see thou art blind: Not Jealous of Young Worthy? Ha! ha! How now!

Enter Sir Novelty's Servant with a Porter.

Serv.

Sir, here's a Porter with a Letter for your Honour.

Porter

I was ordered to give it into your own hands, Sir, and expect an Answer.

Sir Nov.

(Reads)

Excuse my dear Sir Novelty the forc't Indifference I have shewn you, and let me Recom∣pence your past Sufferings with an hours Conversation, af∣ter the Play at Rosamond's Pond, where you will find an hearty Welcome to the Arms of your Narcissa! Unex∣pected happiness! The arms of your Narcissa! I gad and when I am there, I'll make my self Welcome!

Faith I did not think she was so far gone neither! But I don't question there are five Hundred more in her Condition.—I have a good mind not to go Faith! Yet hang it, I will though only, to be revenged of this Old Fellow! Nay, I'll have the Pleasure of mak∣ing it publick too: For I will give her the Musick, and draw all the Town to be Witness of my Tri∣umph! Where is the Lady—

To the Porter.

Porter.

In a Hackney-Coach at the Corner of the Street.

Sir Nov.

Enough, tell her I will certainly be there—

[Ex. Porter.

Well, Old Gentleman then you are resolv'd I shall be on Kin to you? Your Daughter is disposed of: Humh!

Sir Will.

You have your Answer, Sir, you shall be on Kin to me.

Sir Nov.

Farewell Old Philosophy: And d'ee hear, I wou'd advise you to study nothing but the Art of Patience: You may have an unexpected Occasion for it. Hark you! wou'd not it nettle you damnably to hear my Son call you Grandfather?

Sir Will.

Sir—Notwithstanding this provocation, I am calm; but were I like other Men, a Slave to Pas∣sion, shou'd not for-bear calling you Impertinent! How

I swell with rising vexation—Leave me, leave me; go Sir, go, get you out of my House

[Angrily.]

Sir Nov.

Oh! have a care of Passion, Dear Diogenes, ha! ha! ha! he!

Sir Will.

So!

(Sighing)

at last I have Conquer'd it; Pray Sir Oblige me with your absence

(taking off his Hat)

I protest I am tired with you, Pray leave my House.

(Submissively.)

Sir Nov.

Damm your House, your Family, your Ancestors, your Generation, and your Eternal Posterity.

[Exit]

Sir Will.

Ah!—A Fair Riddance; how I bless my self, that it was not in this Fools power to pro∣voke me beyond that Serenity of Temper, which a wise man ought to be Master of: How near are men to Brutes, when their unruly Passions break the Bounds of Reason? And of all Passions, Anger is the most vio∣lent, which often puts me in mind of that admirable Saying,

He that strives not to Stem his Angers Tide, Does a Mad Horse without a Bridle ride.