The old batchelour a comedy, as it is acted at the Theatre Royal, by Their Majesties servants / written by Mr. Congreve.

ACT II.

SCENE I.

Sir Joseph Wittoll, Sharper following.

Sharp.

SUre that's he and alone.

Sir Io.

Um— Ay this, this is the very damn'd place; the inhumane Cannibals, the bloody-minded Villains would have Butcher'd me last night: No doubt, they would have slead me alive, have fold ray Skin, and devour'd my Members.

Sharp.

How's this!

Sir Io.

An it hadn't been for a civil Gentleman as came by and frightn'd 'em away — but agad I durst not stay to give him thanks.

Sharp.

This must be Belmour he means — ha! I have a thought—

Sir Io.

Zooks, would the Captain would come; the very remembrance makes me quake; agad I shall never be reconciled to this place heartily.

Sharp.

'Tis but trying, and being where I am at worst, now luck !—curs'd fortune! this must be the place, this damn'd unlucky place—

Sir Io.

Agad and so 'tis—why here has been more mischief done I perceive.

Sharp.

No, 'tis gone, 'tis lost—ten thousand Devils on that chance which drew me hither; ay here, just here, this spot to me is Hell; no∣thing to be found, but the despair of what i've cost.

Looking about as in search

Sir Io.

Poor Gentleman—by the Lord Harry ile stay no longer, for I have sound too—

Sharp.

Ha! who's that has found? what have you found? restore it quickly, or by—

Sir Io.

Not I Sir, not I, as I've a Soul to be sav'd, I have found nothing but what has been to my loss, as I may say, and as you were saying Sir.

Sharp.

O your Servant Sir. you are safe then it seems; 'tis an ill Wind that blows no body good: well, you may rejoyce over my ill fortune, since it pay'd the price of your ransome.

Sir Io.

I rejoyce! agad not I Sir; I'me sorry for your loss, with all my Heart, Blood and Guts Sir; and if you did but know me, you'd nere say I were so ill natur'd.

Sharp.

Know you! why can you be so ungrateful, to forget me!

Sir Jo.

O Lord forget him! No no Sir, I don't forget you—because I never saw your face before, agad. Ha, ha, ha.

Sharper.

How!

Angrily.

Sir Io.

Stay, slay Sir, let me recollect—he's a damn'd angry Fellow—I believe I had▪ better remember him, till I can get out of his light; but out o' sight out o' mind agad

Aside.

Sharp.

Methought the service I did you last night Sir, in preserving you from those Russians, might have taken better root in your shallow me∣mory.

Sir Io.

Gads-Daggers-Belts-Blades-and Scabbards, this is the very Gentleman! how shall I make him a return suitable to the greatness of his merit—I had a pretty thing to that Purpose, if he han't frighted it out of my memory. Hem! hem! Sir, I must submissively implore your par∣don for my transgression of ingratitude and omission; having my intire dependance Sir, upon the supersinity of your goodness, which, like an innundation will I hope totally immerge the recollection of my errour, and leave me floating in your sight, upon the full, blown, Bladders of re∣pentance—by the help of which, I shall once more hope to swim into your favour

Bows.

Sharp.

So—h, O Sir I am easily pacify'd, the acknowledgment of a Gen∣tleman—

Sir Io.

Acknowledgment! Sir I am all over acknowledgment, and will not stick to show it in the greatest extremity, by night, or by day, in sickness, or in health, Winter, or Summer, all Seasons and occasions shall testify the reality and gratitude of you superabundant humble Ser∣vant Sir Ioseph Wittoll Knight. Hem! hem!

Sharp.

Sir Ioseph Wittoll!

Sir Io.

The same Sir, of Wittoll-hall in Comitatu Bucks.

Sharp.

Is it possible! Then I am happy to have obliged the Mirrour of Knighthood and Pink of Courtesie in the Age, let me embrace you.

Sir Io.

O Lord Sir!

Sharp.

My loss, I esteem as a trifle repay'd with interest, since it has pur∣chas'd me the friendship and acquaintance of the person in the World, whose Character I admire.

Sir Io.

You are only pleas'd to say so Sir—But pray if I may be so bold, what is that loss you mention?

Sharp.

O term it no longer so Sir. In the Scuffle last Night I only dropt a Bill of a hundred Pound, which I confess, I came half despairing to re∣cover; but thanks to my better Fortune—

Sir Io.

You have found it Sir then it seems; I profess I'me heartily glad—

Sharp.

Sir your humble Servant—I don't question but you are; that you have so cheap an opportunity of expressing your gratitude and gene∣rosity. Since the refunding so trivial a Sum, will wholly acquit you and doubly engage me.

Sir Io.

What a dickens do's he mean by a trival Sum

aside

But han't you found it Sir!

Sharp.

No otherwise I vow to Gad but in my hopes in you Sir.

Sir Io.

Humph.

Sharp.

But that's sufficient—'Twere injustice to doubt the honour of Sir Io. Wittoll.

Sir Io.

O Lord Sir.

Sharp.

You are above (I'me sure) a thought so low, to suffer me to lose what was ventur'd in your service; Nay 'twas in a manner—Pay'd down for your deliverance; 'twas so much lent you—And you scorn, 'Ile say that for you—

Sir Io.

Nay 'Ile say that for my self (with your leave Sir) I do scorn a dirty thing. But agad 'Ime a little out of pocket at present,

Sharp.

Pshaw you can't want a hundred Pound. Your Word is suffici∣ent any where▪ 'Tis but borrowing so much Dirt, you have large Acres and can soon repay it—Mony is but Dirt Sir Ioseph—Mere Dirt.

Sir Io.

But I profess, 'tis a Dirt I have wash'd my Hands of at present; I have lay'd it all out upon my Back.

Sharp.

Are you so extravagant in Cloaths Sir Ioseph?

Sir Io.

Ha, ha, ha, a very good Jest I profess, ha, ha, ha, a very good Jest, and I did not know that I had say'd it, and that's a better Jest than tother. 'Tis a sign you and I ha'n't been long acquainted; you have lost a good Jest for want of knowing me—I only mean a Friend of mine whom I call my Back; he sticks as close to me, and follows me through all dangers—he is indeed Back, Breast and Headpiece as it were to me —agad he's a brave Fellow—Pauh, I am quite another thing, when I am with him: I don't fear the Devil (God bless us) almost if he be by. Ah— had he been with me last night —

Sharp.

If he had Sir, what then? he could have done no more, nor per∣haps have suffer'd so much—had he a hundred Pound to lose

Angrily.

Sir Io.

O lord Sir by no means (but I might have sav'd a hundred Pound) I meant innocently as I hope to be sav'd Sir (a damn'd hot Fel∣low) only as I was saying, I let him have all my ready Mony to redeem his great Sword from Limbo—But Sir I have a Letter of Credit to Al∣derman Fondlewife, as far as two hundred Pound, and this Afternoon you shall see I am a Person, such a one as you would wish to have met with.

Sharp.

That you are Ile be sworn

aside

Why that's great and like your self.

Enter Bluffe.

Sir Jo.

Oh here •••• comes 〈…〉〈…〉 of Troy, welcome my Bully, my Back, ••gad 〈…〉〈…〉

Bluff.

How how, my young Knight? Not for fear I hope, he that knows me must be a stranger to fear.

Sir Jo.

Nay agad I hate fear ever since I had like to have dy'd of a fright. But—

Bluff.

But? Look you here Boy, here's your antidote, here's your Jesuits Powder for a shaking fit—But who hast thou got with thee, is he of mettle?

Laying his Hand upon his Sword.

Sir Jo.

Ay Bully, a Devilish smart Fellow, 'a will sight like a Cock.

Bluff.

Say you so? then I honour him—But has he been abroad? for every Cock will sight upon his own Dunghil.

Sir Jo.

I don't know, but I'le present you—

Bluff.

I'le recommend my self—Sir I honour you; I understand you love Fighting, I reverence a Man that loves Fighting, Sir I Kiss your Hilts.

Sharp.

Sir your Servant, but you are misinform'd, for unless it be to serve my particular Friend, as Sir Joseph here, my Country, or my Religi∣on, or in some very Justifiable Cause, I'me not for it.

Bluff.

O Lord I beg your pardon Sir, I find you are not of my Pallat, you can't relish a Dish of Fighting without Sweet Sawce. Now I think—Fighting, for Fighting sake's sufficient Cause; Fighting, to me's Religi∣on and the Laws.

Sir Jo.

Ah, well said my Hero; was not that great Sir? by the Lord-Harry he says true; Fighting, is Meat, Drink and Cloth to him. But Back, this Gentleman is one of the best Friends I have in the World and saved my Life last Night—You know I told you.

Bluff.

Ay! Then I honour him again—Sir may I crave your name?

Sharp.

Ay Sir, my name's Sharper.

Sir Jo.

Pray Mr. Sharper Embrace my Back—very well—By the Lord Harry Mr. Sharper he's as brave a Fellow as Cannibal, are not you Bully—Back?

Sharp.

Hannibal I believe you mean Sir Joseph.

Bluff.

Undoubtedly he did Sir; faith Hannibal was a very pretty Fellow —but Sir Joseph, comparisons are odious—Hannibal was a very pretty Fellow in those Days, it must be granted—But Alas Sir! were he alive now, he would be nothing, Nothing in the Earth.

Sharp.

How Sir! I make a doubt, if there be at this Day a greater General Breathing.

Bluff.

Oh excuse me Sir; have you serv'd a broad Sir?

Sharp.

Not I really Sir.

Bluff.

Oh I thought so—Why then you can know nothing Sir: I'me afraid you scarce know the History of the Late War in Flanders, with all its particulars.

Sharp.

Not I, Sir, no more than publick Letters, or Gazett's tell us.

Bluff.

Gazette! Why there again now—Why, Sir, there are not three words of Truth, the Year round, put into the Gazette—I'll tell you a strange thing now as to that—You must know, Sir, I was resident in Flanders the last Campagn, had a small Post there; but no matter for that—Perhaps, Sir, there was a scarce any thing of moment done but an humble Servant of yours, that shall be nameless, was an Eye-witness of—I won't say had the greatest share in't. Tho' I might say that too, since I am no Body you know—Well, Mr. Sharper, would you think it? In all this time—as I hope for a Truncheon—this rascally Gazette-writer never so much as once mention'd me—Not once by the Wars—Took no more notice, than as if Nol. Bluffe had not been in the Land of the Living.

Sharp.

Strange!

Sir Io.

Yet by the Lord Harry 'tis true Mr. Sharper, for I went every day to Coffee-houses to read the Gazette my self.

Bluff.

Ay, ay, no matter—You see Mr. Sharper after all I am con∣tent to retire—Live a private Person—Scipio and others have done it.

Sharp.

Impudent Rogue.

Aside.

Sir Io.

Ay, this damn'd Modesty of yours—Agad if he would put in for't he might be made General himself yet.

Bluff.

Oh fy no Sir Ioseph—You know I hate this.

Sir Io.

Let me but tell Mr. Sharper a little, how you let fire once out of the mouth of a Canon—agad he did; those impenetrable Whiskers of his have confronted Flames—

Bluff.

Death, what do you mean Sir Ioseph?

Sir Io.

Look you now, I tell you he's so modest he'l own nothing.

Bluff.

Pish you have put me out, I have forgot what I was about. Pray hold your Tongue, and give me leave.

Angrily.

Sir Io.

I am dumb.

Bluff.

This Sword I think I was telling you of Mr. Sharper—This Sword I'l maintain to be the best Divine, Anatomist, Lawyer or Casuist in Europe; it shall decide a Controversie or split a Cause—

Sir Io.

Nay, now I must speak; it will split a Hair by the Lord Harry, I have seen it.

Bluff.

Zoons Sir, it's a Lie, you have not seen it, nor shant see it; Sir I say you can't see; what de'e say to that now?

Sir Io.

I am blind.

Bluff.

Death, had any other Man interrupted me—

Sir Io.

Good Mr. Sharper speak to him; I dare not look that way.

Sharp.

Captain, Sir Ioseph's penitent.

Bluff.

O I am calm Sir, calm as a discharg'd Culverin—But 'twas in∣discreet, when you know what will provoke me—Nay come Sir Ioseph, you know my Heat's soon over.

Sir Io.

Well I am a Fool sometimes—But I'm sorry.

Bluff.

Enough.

Sir Io.

Come we'll go take a Glass to drown Animosities. Mr. Sharper will you partake?

Sharp.

I wait on you Sir; nay pray Captain—You are Sir Ioseph's Back.

Exeunt.

SCENE Changes to Lodgings.

Enter Araminta, Belinda.

Belin.

Ay! nay Dear—prithee good, dear sweet Cousin no more. Oh Gad, I swear you'd make one sick to hear you.

Aram.

Bless me! what have I said to move you thus?

Belin.

Oh you have raved, talked idly, and all in Commendation of that filthy, awkard, two-leg'd Creature, Man—you don't know what you said, your Fever has transported you.

Aram.

If Love be the Feeer which you mean; kind Heav'n avert the cure: Let me have Oil to feed that Flame and never let it be extinct, till I my self am Ashes.

Belin.

There was a Whine—O Gad I hate your horrid Fancy—This Love is the Devil, and sure to be in Love is to be possess'd—Tis in the Head, the Heart, the Blood, the—All over—O Gad you are quite spoil'd—I shall loath the sight of Mankind for your sake.

Aram.

Fie, this is gross Affectation—A little of Bellmour's Company would change the Scene.

Belin.

Filthy Fellow! I wonder Cousin—

Aram.

I wonder Cousin you should imagine, I don't perceive you love him.

Belin.

O I love your hideous Fancy! Ha, ha, ha, love a Man!

Aram.

Love a Man! yes, you would not love a Beast.

Belin.

Of all Beasts not an Ass—Which is so like your Vainlove—Lard I have seen an Ass look so Chagrin, Ha, ha, ha, (you must pardon me I can't help Laughing) that an absolute Lover would have concluded the poor Creature to have had Darts, and Flames, and Altars, and all that in his Breast. Araminta, come I'll talk seriously to you now; could you but see with my Eyes, the buffoonry of one Scene of Address, a Lover, set out with all his Equipage and Appurtenances; O Gad! sure you would—But you play the Game, and consequently can't see the Miscar∣riages obvious to every Stander by.

Aram.

Yes, yes, I can see something near it when you and Bellmour meet. You don't know that you dreamt of Bellmour last Night, and call'd him aloud in your sleep.

Belin.

Pish, I can't help dreaming of the Devil sometimes; would you from thence infer I love him?

Aram.

But that's not all; you caught me in your Arms when you▪ named him, and press'd me to your Bosom—Sure if I had not pinch'd you till you wak'd, you had stisled me with Kisses.

Belin.

O barbarous Aspersion!

Aram.

No Aspersion, Cousin, we are alone—Nay, I can tell you more.

Belin.

I deny it all.

Aram.

What, before you hear it?

Belin.

My Denyal is premeditated like your Malice—Lard, Cousin, you talk odly—What ever the Matter is, O my Sol, I'm afraid you'l follow evil Courses.

Aram.

Ha, ha, ha, this is pleasant.

Belin.

You may laugh, but—

Aram.

Ha, ha, ha.

Belin.

You think the malicious Grinn becomes you—The Devil take Bellmour—Why do you tell me of him?

Aram.

Oh is it come out—Now you are angry, I am sure you love him. I tell no Body else Cousin—I have not betray'd you yet.

Belin.

Prithee tell it all the World, it's false. Betty.

Calls.

Aram.

Come then, Kiss and Friends.

Belin.

Pish.

Aram.

Prithee don't be so Peevish.

Belin.

Prithee don't be so Impertinent.

Aram.

Ha, ha, ha.

Enter Betty.

Betty.

Did your Ladyship, call Madam?

Belin.

Get my Hoods and Tippet, and bid the Footman call a Chair.

Exit Betty.

Aram.

I hope you are not going out in dudgeon, Cousin.

Enter Footman.

Foot.

Madam, there are—

Belin.

Is there a Chair?

Foot.

No, Madam, there are Mr. Bellmour and Mr. Vainlove to wait upon your Ladyship.

Aram.

Are they below?

Foot.

No, Madam, they sent before, to know if you were at home.

Belin.

The Visit's to you, Cousin, I suppose I am at my liberty.

Aram.

Be ready to shew 'em up.

Exit Footman.

I can't tell, Cousin, I believe we are equally concern'd: But if you con∣tinue your Humour, it won't be very entertaining—(I know she'd fain be persuaded to stay.

Aside. Belin.

Belin.

I shall oblige you, in leaving you to the full and free enjoyment of that Conversation you admire.

Enter Betty, with Hoods and Looking-glass.

Belin.

Let me see; hold the Glass—Lard I look wretchedly to day.

Aram.

Betty, why don't you help my Cousin?

Putting on her Hoods.

Belin.

Hold off your Fists, and see that he gets a Chair with a high Roof, or a very low Seat— Stay, Come back here you Mrs. Fidget—You are so ready to go to the Footman—Here, take 'em all again, my Mind's chang'd, I won't go.

Exit Betty with the Things.

Aram.

So, this I expected—You won't oblige me then, Cousin, and let me have all the Company to my self?

Belin.

No; upon deliberation, I have too much Charity to trust you to your self. The Devil watches all opportunities; and in this favour∣able disposition of your Mind, Heav'n knows how far you may be tempted: I am tender of your Reputation.

Aram.

I am oblig'd to you—But who's malicious now, Belinda?

Belin.

Not I; witness my Heart I stay out of pure Affection.

Aram.

In my Conscience I believe you.

Enter Bellmour, Vainlove.

Bell.

So Fortune be prais'd! To find you both within, Ladies, is—

Aram.

No Miracle, I hope.

Bell.

Not o' your side, Madam, I confess—But my Tyrant there and I, are two Buckets that can never come together.

Belin.

Nor are ever like—Yet we often meet and clash.

Bell.

How never like! marry Hymen forbid. But this it is to run so extravagantly in Debt; I have laid out such a world of Love in your Ser∣vice, that you think you can never be able to pay me all: So shun me for the same reason that you would have done.

Belin.

Ay, on my Conscience, and the most impertinent and trouble∣some of Duns—A Dun for Mony will be quiet, when he sees his Debtor has not wherewithal—But a Dun for Love is an eternal Torment that never rests—

Bell.

Till he has created Love where there was none, and then gets it for his pains. For importunity in Love, like importunity at Court; first creates its own Interest, and then pursues it for the Favour.

Aram.

Favours that are got by Impudence and Importunity, are like Discoveries from the Rack, when the afflicted Person, for his ease, some∣times confesses Secrets his Heart knows nothing of.

Vain.

I should rather think Favours, so gain'd, to be due Rewards to

indefatigable Devotion—For as Love is a Deity, he must be serv'd by Prayer.

Belin.

O Gad, would you would all pray to Love then, and let us alone.

Vain.

You are the Temples of Love, and 'tis through you, our Devo∣tion must be convey'd.

Aram.

Rather poor silly Idols of your own making, which, upon the least displeasure you forsake, and set up new—Every Man, now, changes his Mistress and his Religion, as his Humour varies or his Interest.

Vain.

O Madam—

Aram.

Nay come, I find we are growing serious, and then we are in great danger of being dull—If my Musicke master be not gone, I'll enter∣tain you with a new Song, which comes pretty near my own Opinion of Love and your Sex—Who's there?

Calls.

Enter Footman.

Is Mr. Gavot gone?

Foot.

Only to the next door, Madam; I'll call him.

Exit.

Bell.

Why, you wont hear me with Patience.

Aram.

What's the Matter, Cousin.

Bell.

Nothing, Madam, only—

Belin.

Prithee hold thy Tongue—Lard, he has so pester'd me with Flames and Stuff—I think I shan't endure the sight of a Fire this Twelvemonth.

Bell.

Yet all can't melt that cruel frozen Heart.

Belin.

O Gad I hate your hideous Fancy—You said that once before—If you must talk impertinently, for Heav'ns sake let it be with variety; don't come always, like the Devil, wrapt in Flames—I'll not hear a Sentence more, that begins with an, I burn—Or an, I beseech you, Madam.

Bell.

But tell me how you would be Ador'd—I am very tractable.

Belin.

Then know, I would be Ador'd in Silence.

Bell.

Humph, I thought so, that you might have all the Talk to your self—You had better let me speak, for if my Thoughts fly to any pitch, I shall make villainous Signs.

Belin.

What will you get by that? To make such Signs as I won't understand.

Bell.

Ay, but if I'm Tongue-ty'd, I must have all my Actions free to—Quicken your Apprehension—And I-gad let me tell you, my standing Argu∣ment is depress'd in dumb shew.

Enter Musick master.

Aram.

O I am glad we shall have a Song to divert the Discourse—Pray oblige us with the last new Song.

SONG.

I.

Thus, to a ripe, consenting Maid, Poor, old, repenting Delia said, Would you long preserve your Lover? Would you still his Goddess reign? Never let him all discover, Never let him much obtain.

II.

Men will admire, adore and die, While wishing at your Feet they lie: But admitting their Embraces, Wakes 'em from the golden Dream; Nothing's new besides our Faces, Every Woman is the same.

Aram.

So, how de'e like the Song, Gentlemen?

Bell.

O very well perform'd—But I don't much admire the Words.

Aram.

I expected it—there's too much Truth in 'em: If Mr. Gavot will walk with us in the Garden, we'll have it once again—You may like it better at second hearing. You'l bring my Cousin.

Bell.

Faith, Madam, I dare not speak to her, but I'll make Signs.

Adresses Belinda in dumb shew.

Belin.

O fogh, your dumb Rhetorick is more ridiculous, than your talking Impertinence; as an Ape is a much more troublesome Animal than a Parrot.

Aram.

Ay, Cousin, and 'tis a sign the Creatures mimick Nature well, for there are few Men, but do more silly things, than they say.

Bell.

Well, I find my Apishness has paid the Ransome for my Speech, and set it at liberty—Tho', I confess, I could be well enough pleas'd to drive on a Love-bargain, in that silent manner—'Twould save a Man a World of Lying and Swearing at the Years end. Besides, I have had a little Experience, that brings to my mind—

When Wit and Reason, both, have fail'd to move; Kind Looks and Actions (from Success) do prove, Ev'n Silence may be Eloquent in Love.

Exeunt Omnes.