The double-dealer a comedy, acted at the Theatre Royal by Their Majesties servants / written by Mr. Congreve.

SCENE I.

Enter Lady Froth and Cynthia.

Cynthia.

INdeed, Madam! Is it Possible your Ladyship could have been so much in Love?

L. Froth.

I could not sleep; I did not sleep one wink for Three Weeks together.

Cynt.

Prodigious! I wonder, want of sleep, and so much Love, and so much Wit as your Ladyship has, did not turn your Brain.

L. Froth.

O my Dear Cynthia, you must not rally your Friend,—but really, as you say, I wonder too,—but then I had a way.—For between you and I, I had Whymsies and Vapours, but I gave them vent.

Cynt.

How pray, Madam?

L. Froth.

O I Writ, Writ abundantly,—do you never Write?

Cynt.

Write, what?

L. Froth.

Songs, Elegies, Satyrs, Encomiums, Pane∣gyricks, Lampoons, Plays, or Heroick Poems.

Cynt.

O Lord, not I, Madam; I'm content to be a Courteous Reader.

L. Froth.

O Inconsistent! In Love, and not Write! if my Lord and I had been both of your Temper, we had never come together,—O bless me! What a sad thing would that have been, if my Lord and I should never have met!

Cynt.

Then neither my Lord and you would ever have met with your Match, on my Conscience.

L. Froth.

O' my Conscience no more we should; thou say'st right—for sure my Lord Froth is as fine a Gen∣tleman, and as much a Man of Quality! Ah! Nothing at

all of the Common Air,—I think I may say he wants nothing, but a Blue Ribbon and a Star, to make him Shine, the very Phosphorus of our Hemisphere. Do you understand those Two hard Words? If you don't, I'll explain 'em to you.

Cynt.

Yes, yes, Madam, I'm not so Ignorant.—At least I won't own it, to be troubled with your In∣structions.

Aside.

L. Froth.

Nay, I beg your Pardon; but being Deriv∣ed from the Greek, I thought you might have escap'd the Etymology.—But I'm the more amazed, to find you a Woman of Letters, and not Write! Bless me! how can Mellefont believe you Love him?

Cynt.

Why Faith, Madam, he that won't take my Word, shall never have it under my Hand.

L. Froth.

I Vow Mellefont's a pretty Gentleman, but Methinks he wants a Manner.

Cynt.

A Manner! what's that, Madam?

L. Froth.

Some distinguishing Quality, as for example, the Belle-air or Brillant of Mr. Brisk; the Solemnity, yet Com∣plaisance of my Lord, or something of his own, that should look a little Iene-scay quoysh; he is too much a Mediocrity, in my mind.

Cynt.

He does not indeed affect either pertness, or for∣mality; for which I like him: Here he comes.

L. Froth.

And my Lord with him: pray observe the dif∣ference.

Enter Lord Froth, Mellefont, Brisk.

Cynt.

Impertinent Creature, I could almost be angry with her now.

Aside.

L. Froth.

My Lord, I have been telling my dear Cynthia, how much I have been in Love with you; I swear I have; I'm not asham'd to own it now; ah! it makes my heart leap, I vow I sigh when I think on't: my dear Lord! ha, ha, ha, do you remember, my Lord?

Squeezes him by the hand, looks kindly on him, sighs, and then laughs out.

Ld. Froth.

Pleasant Creature! perfectly well, ah! that look, ay, there it is; who could resist! 'twas so my heart was made a Captive first, and ever since 't has been in Love with happy Slavery.

L. Froth.

O that Tongue, that dear deceitful Tongue! that Charming Softness in your Mien and your Expression, and then your Bow! Good my Lord, bow as you did when I gave you my Picture, here suppose this my Pi∣cture—

Gives him a Pocket-glass.

Pray mind, my Lord; ah! he bows Charmingly; nay, my Lord, you sha'n't kiss it so much; I shall grow jealous, I vow now.

He bows profoundly low, then kisses the Glass.

Ld. Froth.

I saw my self there, and kissed it for your sake.

L. Froth.

Ah! Gallantry to the last degree—Mr. Brisk, you're a Judge; was ever any thing so well-bred as my Lord?

Brisk.

Never any thing; but your Ladyship, let me perish.

L. Froth.

O prettily turn'd again; let me die, but you have a great deal of Wit: Mr. Mellefont, don't you think Mr. Brisk has a World of Wit?

Mel.

O, yes, Madam.

Brisk.

O Lord, Madam—

L. Froth.

An infinite deal!

Brisk.

O Jesu, Madam—

L. Froth.

More Wit than any Body.

Brisk.

I'm everlastingly your humble Servant, Deuce take me, Madam.

Ld. Froth.

Don't you think us a happy Couple?

Cynt.

I vow, my Lord, I think you the happiest Cou∣ple in the World, for you are not only happy in one ano∣ther, and when you are together, but happy in your selves, and by your selves.

Ld. Froth.

I hope Mellefont will make a good Husband too.

Cynt.

'Tis my Interest to believe he will, my Lord.

Ld. Froth.

D'e think he'll Love you as well as I do my Wife? I'm afraid not.

Cynt.

I believe he'll Love me better.

Ld. Froth.

Heavens! that can never be; but why do you think so?

Cynt.

Because he has not so much reason to be fond of himself.

Ld. Froth.

O your humble Servant for that, dear Madam; well, Mellefont, you'll be a happy Creature.

Mel.

Ay, my Lord, I shall have the same reason for my hap∣piness that your Lordship has, I shall think my self happy.

Ld. Froth.

Ah, that's all.

Brisk.

to Lady Froth

Your Ladyship is in the right; but I'gad I'm wholly turn'd into Satyr. I confess I Write but seldom, but when I do—keen Iambicks I'gad. But my Lord was telling me, your Ladyship has made an Essay toward an Heroick Poem.

L. Froth.

Did my Lord tell you? Yes I vow, and the Subject is my Lord's Love to me. And what do you think I call it? I dare Swear you won't guesse—The Sillibub, ha, ha, ha.

Brisk.

Because my Lord's Title's Froth, I'gad, ha, ha, ha, Deuce take me very a Propos and Surprizing, ha, ha, ha.

L. Froth.

He, Ay, is not it?—and then I call my Lord Spumoso; and my self, what d'e think I call my self?

Brisk.

Lactilla may be,—'gad I cannot tell.

L. Froth.

Biddy, that's all; just my own Name.

Brisk.

Biddy! I'gad very pretty—Deuce take me if •…•…ur Ladyship has not the Art of Surprizing the most Naturally in the World,—I hope you'll make me happy in Communicating the Poem.

L. Froth.

O, you must be my Confident, I must ask your Advice.

Brisk.

I'm your Humble Servant, let me perish▪—I presume your Ladyship has Read Bossu?

L. Froth.

O yes, and Rapine, and Dacier upon Aristotle and Horace.—My Lord you must not be Jealous, I'm Communicating all to Mr. Brisk.

Ld. Froth.

No, no, I'll allow Mr. Brisk; have you no∣thing about you to shew him, my Dear?

L. Froth.

Yes, I believe I have.—Mr. Brisk, come

will you go into the next Room? and there I'll shew you all I have.

Exit L. Froth and Brisk.

Ld. Froth.

I'll walk a turn in the Garden, and come to you.

Exit.

Mel.

You're thoughtful, Cynthia?

Cynt.

I'm thinking, that tho' Marriage makes Man and Wife One Flesh, it leaves 'em still Two Fools; and they become more Conspicuous by setting off one another.

Mel.

That's only when Two Fools meet, and their follies are oppos'd.

Cynt.

Nay, I have known Two Wits meet, and by the opposition of their Wits, render themselves as ridiculous as Fools. 'Tis an odd Game we're going to Play at: What think you of drawing Stakes, and giving over in time?

Mel.

No, hang't, that's not endeavouring to Win, because it's possible we may lose; since we have Shuffled and Cutt, let's e'en turn up Trump now.

Cynt.

Then I find its like Cards, if either of us have a good Hand, it is an Accident of Fortune.

Mel.

No, Marriage is rather like a Game at Bowls, For∣tune indeed makes the match, and the Two nearest, and sometimes the Two farthest are together, but the Game de∣pends entirely upon Judgment.

Cynt.

Still it is a Game, and Consequently one of us must be a Loser.

Mel.

Not at all; only a Friendly Tryal of Skill, and the Winnings to be Shared between us.—What's here, th•…•… Musick!—Oh, my Lord has promised the Company •…•… New Song, we'll get 'em to give it us by the way.

Musicians crossing the Stage.

Pray let us have the Favour of you, to practice the Song, before the Company hear it.

SONG.

I.

CYnthia frowns when e're I Woo her, Yet she's vext if I give over; Much she fears I should undo her, But much more, to lose her Lover: Thus, in doubting, she refuses: And not Winning, thus she loses.

II.

Prithee Cynthia look behind you, Age and Wrinckles will o'retake you; Then too late, desire will find you, When the power does forsake you: Think, O think o'th' sad Condition. To be past, yet wish Fruition.

Mal.

You shall have my thanks below.

To the Musick, they go out.

Enter Sir Paul Plyant and Lady Plyant.

Sir Paul.

Gads bud! I am provoked into a Fermentation, as my Lady Froth says; was ever the like read of in Story?

L. P.

Sir Paul have patience, let me alone to rattle him up.

Sir Paul.

Pray your Ladyship give me leave to be Angry—I'll rattle him up I Warrant you, I'll firk him with a Certiorari.

L. P.

You firk him, I'll firk him my self; pray Sir Paul hold you Contented.

Cynt.

Bless me, what makes my Father in such a Passion!—I never saw him thus before.

Sir Paul.

Hold your self Contented, my Lady Plyant,—I find Passion coming upon me by inspiration, and I cannot sub∣mit as formerly, therefore give way.

L. P.

How now! will you be pleased to retire, and—

Sir Paul.

No marry will I not be pleased, I am pleased to be angry, that's my pleasure at this time.

Mel.

What can this mean!

L. P.

Gads my life, the man's Distracted, why how now, who are you? What am I? 'Slidikins can't I govern you? What did I Marry you for? Am I not to be absolute and uncon∣troulable? Is it fit a Woman of my Spirit, and Conduct, should be contradicted in a matter of this Concern?

Sir Paul.

It concerns me, and only me;—besides, I'm not to be govern'd at all times. When I am in Tranquility, my Lady Plyant shall Command Sir Paul; but when I am provoked to fury, I cannot incorporate with Patience and Reason,—as soon may Tygers Match with Tygers, Lambs with Lambs, and every Creature couple with its Foe, as the Poet says.—

L. P.

He's hot-headed still! 'Tis in vain to talk to you; but remember I have a Curtain-Lecture for you, you disobe∣dient, headstrong Brute.

Sir Paul.

No, 'tis because I won't be headstrong, because I won't be a Brute, and have my Head fortifi'd, that I am thus exasperated,—but I will protect my Honour, and yonder is the Violater of my Fame.

L. P.

'Tis my Honour that is concern'd, and the violation was intended to me. Your Honour! You have none, but what is in my keeping, and I can dispose of it when I please—therefore don't provoke me.

Sir Paul.

Hum, gads bud she says true,—well, my Lady, March on, I will fight under you then: I am convinced, as far as Passion will permit.

L. Plyant and Sir Paul come up to Mellefont.

L. P.

Inhuman and Treacherous.

Sir Paul.

Thou Serpent and first Tempter of Womankind.—

Cynt.

Bless me! Sir; Madam; what mean you?

Sir Paul.

Thy, Thy, come away Thy, touch him not, come hither Girl, go not near him, there's nothing but deceit about him; Snakes are in his Peruke, and the Crocodile of Nilus in his Belly, he will eat thee up alive.

L. P.

Dishonourable, impudent Creature!

Mel.

For Heaven's sake, Madam, to whom do you direct this Language!

L. P.

Have I behaved my self with all the decorum, and nicety, befitting the Person of Sir Paul's Wife? Have I preser∣ved my Honour as it were in a Snow-House for this three year past? Have I been white and unsulli'd even by Sir Paul himself?

Sir Paul.

Nay, she has been an impenetrable Wife, even to me, that's the truth on't.

L. P.

Have I, I say, preserv'd my self, like a fair Sheet of Paper, for you to make a Blot upon—

Sir Paul.

And she shall make a Simile with any Woman in England.

Mel.

I am so amazed, I know not what to speak.

Sir Paul.

Do you think my Daughter, this pretty Creature; gads bud she's a Wife for a Cherubin! Do you think her fit for nothing but to be a Stalking-Horse, to stand before you, while you take aim at my Wife? Gads bud I was never angry before in my Life, and I'll never be appeased again.

Mel.

Hell and Damnation! this is my Aunt; such malice can be engendred no where else.

Aside.

L. P.

Sir Paul, take Cynthia from his fight; leave me to strike him with the remorse of his intended Crime.

Cynt.

Pray, Sir, stay, hear him, I dare affirm he's innocent.

Sir P.

Innocent! why heark'ee, come hither Thy, heark'ee, I had it from his Aunt, my Sister Touchwood,—gadsbud he does not care a Farthing for any thing of thee, but thy Portion, why he's in Love with my Wife; he would have tantalized thee, and made a Cuckold of thy poor Father,—and that would certainly have broke my Heart—I'm sure if ever I should have Horns, they would kill me; they would never come kindly, I should dye of 'em, like any Child, that were cutting his Teeth—I should, indeed, Thy—therefore come away; but providence has prevented all, therefore come away, when I bid you.

Cynt.

I must obey.

Ex. Sir Paul, and Cynthia.

L. P.

O, such a thing! the Impiety of it startles me—to wrong so good, so fair a Creature, and one that lov'd you tenderly—'tis a barbarity of barbarities, and nothing could be guilty of it—

Mel.

But the greatest Villain imagination can form, I grant it; and next to the Villany of such a fact, is the Vil∣lany of aspersing me with the guilt. How? which way was I to wrong her? for yet I understand you not.

L. P.

Why, gads my life, Cousin Mellefont, you cannot be so peremptory as to deny it; when I tax you with it to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 face; for now Sir Paul's gone, you are Corum Nobus.

Mel.

By Heaven, I love her more than life, or—

L. P.

Fiddle, faddle, don't tell me of this and that, and every thing in the World, but give me Mathemacular De∣monstration, answer me directly—but I have not pati∣ence—oh! the Impiety of it, as I was saying, and the un∣parallell'd wickedness! O merciful Father! how could you think to reverse Nature so, to make the Daughter the means of procuring the Mother?

Mel.

The Daughter procure the Mother!

L. P.

Ay, for tho' I am not Cynthia's own Mother, I am her Father's Wife; and that's near enough to make it Incest.

Mel.

Incest! O my precious Aunt, and the Devil in Con∣junction.

Aside.

L. P.

O reflect upon the horror of that, and then the guilt of deceiving every body; Marrying the Daughter, on∣ly to make a Cuckold of the Father; and then seducing me, debauching my purity, and perverting me from the road of Virtue, in which I have trod thus long, and never made one Trip, not one faux pas; O consider it, what would you have to answer for, if you should provoke me to frail∣ty? Alas! Humanity is feeble, Heaven knows! very feeble, and unable to support it self.

Mel.

Where am I? sure, is it day? and am I awake, Ma∣dam?—

L. P.

And no body knows how Circumstances may hap∣pen together,—to my thinking, now I could resist the strongest Temptation,—but yet I know, 'tis impossi∣ble for me to know whether I could or no, there is no cer∣tainty in the things of this life.

Mel.

Madam, pray give me leave to ask you one questi∣on.—

L. P.

O Lord, ask me the question, I'll swear I'll refuse it; I swear I'll deny it,—therefore don't ask me, nay you shan't ask me, I swear I'll deny it. O Gemini, you have brought all the Blood into my face; I warrant, I am as red as a Turky-Cock; O fie, Cousin Mellefont!

Mel.

Nay, Madam, hear me; I mean—

L. P.

Hear you, no, no; I'll deny you first, and hear you afterwards: For one does not know how ones mind may change upon hearing—hearing is one of the Senses, an•…•… all the Senses are fallible; I won't trust my Honour, I assure you; my Honour is infallible and uncomatible.

Mel.

For Heaven's sake, Madam.—

L. P.

O name it no more—bless me, how can you talk of Heaven! and have so much wickedness in your Heart? May be you don't think it a sin,—they say some of you Gentlemen don't think it a sin,—may be it is no sin to them that don't think it so;—indeed, if I did not think it a sin,—but still my honour, if it were no sin,—but then, to Marry my Daughter, for the Conveniency of frequent Opportunities,—I'll never consent to that, as sure as can be, I'll break the Match.

Mel.

Death and amazement,—Madam, upon my knees.—

L. P.

Nay, nay, rise up, come you shall see my good Na∣ture. I know Love is powerful, and no body can help his passion: 'Tis not your fault; nor I swear it is not mine,—how can I help it, if I have Charms? And how can you help it, if you are made a Captive; I swear it's pity it should be a fault,—but my honour—well, but your honour too—but the sin!—well but the necessity—O Lord, here's some body coming, I dare not stay. Well, you must consider of your Crime; and strive as much as can be a∣gainst it,—strive besure—but don't be melancholly, don't despair,—but never think that I'll grant you any thing; O Lord, no;—but besure you lay aside all thoughts of the Mar∣riage, for tho' I know you don't Love Cynthia, only as a blind for your Passion to me; yet it will make me jealous,—O Lord, what did I say? Jealous! no, no, I can't be jealous, for I must not Love you,—therefore don't hope,—but don't despair neither,—O, they're coming, I must fly.

Exit.

Mel.

after a pause,

So then,—spight of my care and foresight, I am caught, caught in my security,—yet this was but a shallow artifice, unworthy of my Matchiavilian Aunt: There must be more behind, this is but the first flash, the priming of her Engine; destruction follows hard, if not most presently prevented.

Enter Maskwell.

〈◊〉〈◊〉, welcome, thy presence is a view of Land, ap∣•…•… to my Shipwrack'd hopes: The Witch has rais'd 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Storm, and her Ministers have done their Work; you •…•…ee the Vessels are parted.

Mask.

I know it; I met Sir Paul towing away Cynthia: Come, trouble not your head, I'll joyn you together e're to Morrow Morning, or drown between you in the attempt.

Mel.

There's comfort in a hand stretch'd out, to one that's sinking; tho' ne'er so far off.

Mask.

No sinking, nor no danger,—come, cheer up; why you don't know, that while I plead for you, your Aunt has given me a retaining Fee;—nay, I am your greatest E∣nemy, and she does but Journey-Work under me.

Mel.

Ha! how's this?

Mas.

What d'e think of my being employ'd in the execution of all her Plots? Ha, ha, ha, by Heaven it's true; I have un∣dertaken to break the Match, I have undertaken to make your Uncle Disinherit you, to get you turn'd out of Doors; and to—ha, ha, ha, I can't tell you for Laughing,—oh she has open'd her heart to me,—I am to turn you a Grazing, and to—ha, ha, ha, Marry Cynthia my self; there's a Plot for you.

Mel.

Ha! O I see, I see my Rising Sun! Light breaks thro' Clouds upon me, and I shall live in Day—O my Maskwell! how shall I thank or praise thee; Thou hast outwitted Wo∣man.—But tell me, how could'st thou thus get into her Con∣fidence?—Ha! How? But was it her Contrivance to perswade my Lady Plyant to this extravagant belief?

Mas.

It was, and to tell you the truth, I encouraged it for your diversion: Tho it made you a little uneasy for the present, yet the reflection of it must needs be entertaining.—I war∣rant she was very Violent at first.

Mel.

Ha, ha, ha, I, a very Fury; but I was most afraid of her violence at last,—if you had not come as you did; I don't know what she might have attempted.

Mas.

Ha, ha, ha, I know her temper,—well, you must know then, that all my Contrivances were but Bubbles; till at last I pretended to have been long Secretly in Love with Cynthia; that did my business; that convinced your Aunt, I might be trusted; since it was as much my interest as hers to break the Match: Then she thought my Jealousie might qualifie me to assist her in her Revenge. And, in short that belief, told me the Secrets of her heart. At length made this agreement, if accomplish her designs

as I told you before

she has ingaged to put Cynthia with all her Fortune into my Power.

Mel.

She is most gracious in her Favour,—well, and dear Iack, how hast thou Contrived?

Mas.

I would not have you stay to hear it now; for I don't know, but she may come this way; I am to meet her anon, after that I'll tell you the whole matter; be here in this Galle∣ry an hour hence, by that time I imagine our Consultation may be over.

Mel.

I will; till then, success attend thee.

Exit.

Mask.

Till then, Success will attend me; for when I meet you, I meet the only Obstacle to my Fortune. Cynthia, let thy Beauty gild my Crimes; and whatsoever I commit of Treachery or Deceit, shall be imputed to me as a Merit—Treachery, what Treachery? Love cancels all the Bonds of Friendship, and sets Men right upon their first Foundations.

Duty to Kings, Piety to Parents, Gratitude to Benefactors, and Fidelity to Friends, are different and particular Ties: But the Name of Rival cuts 'em all asunder, and is a general acquit∣tance—Rival is equal, and Love like Death an universal Le∣veller of Mankind. Ha! but is there not such a thing as Honesty? Yes, and whosoever has it about him, bears an Enemy in his Breast: For your honest man, as I take it, is that nice, scrupulous, conscientious Person, who will cheat no body but himself; such another Coxcomb, as your wise man, who is too hard for all the World, and will be made a Fool of by no body, but himself: Ha, ha, ha. Well for Wis∣dom and Honesty, give me Cunning and Hypocrisie; oh 'tis such a pleasure, to angle for fair-faced Fools! then that hungry Gudgeon Credulity, will bite at any thing—Why, let me see, I have the same Face, the same Words and Accents, when I speak what I do think; and when I speak what I do not think—the very same—and dear dissimulation is the only Art, not to be known from Nature.

Why will Mankind be Fools, and be deceiv'd? And why are Friends and Lovers Oaths believ'd; When each, who searches strictly his own mind, May so much Fraud and Power of Baseness find?