The Mall, or, The modish lovers a comedy : acted by His Majesties servants.

Scena Prima.

Enter Sir Ralph, and Betty.

Sir Ralph.

NOw I defie my Rivals, if Amorous court thee now, Ile have an Action against him, I hate these fight∣ing Fopps faith, that upon every occasion are at Sa — sa — A pox of their Valour; sirrah, court my mistriss if you dare, says one, for if thou dost, this shall proclaim my right, then to't they go, and there's a Lover lost, perhaps the others hang'd, the Drunken Fopp cryes dam ye, you dog, drink up your Glass, or you are not fit for civil Society; which if refus'd, to Tilting they go, and this they call an honourable quarrel. 'Tis likely three half pence well manag'd at an Apothecaryes, cures all the wounds they have, and they set up for men of Courage, brisk Bulleys of the Sword: These Grace, be the finest Blades of the Age, that court ye, and gain too, all the idle Women of the Town; and when a Country, down-right, honest, peaceable Knight, as I am, makes Love; we are laught at call'd Sir Martin, Sir Nicholas, and forty other ridiculous names; that the newest Comedies furnish ye withall; But Grace, I have mo∣ney Grace, and a pox of formal Fopps.

Betty.

Sir, you entertain me with things that concern me not.

Sir Ralph.

Yes Grace, I wou'd have thee be wise now, thou art my Wife.

Enter Easy, leading Grace from behind the Hangings.

Easy.

Be these your tricks Mistriss, what you were hid to wait your Lover Amorous, were you? come along, or I will disgrace thee publickly.

Sir Ralph.

What's this, what's this, my Uncle, and Mrs. Grace, why who the Devil have I married here then?

Betty.

Your Friend, and Servant Betty, Sir.

Sir Ralph.

How! why you have not cheated me thus, out of my sweet self have you? oh I'me undone, undone!

cryes.

Easy.

How! Sir Ralph, married to Betty? Oh me, that I had but so much moisture in my whole body as wou'd keep you company

Sir Ralph, but since I have not, this baggage shall cry for me—go— get you in, and know your Commander.

Beats Grace in

Grace.

Oh Betty I'me lost.

Exeunt Easy, Grace, and Sir Ralph.

Enter Amorous.

Amor.

So, now I have resign'd my holy Habit, and am become a lay Lover agen.

Betty.

O Sir, my poor Mistriss was discover'd behind the Hang∣ings, and her Uncle has treated her very ill for your sake.

Amor.

Discover'd! oh Betty thou kill'st me! so near my wisht for Port, and sunk i'th very harbour. Malitious Stars!—

Betty.

Well Sir, I don't doubt but for all this, to bring it about a∣gen, in the mean time, 'twere good you shou'd retire, I will give you notice of all that passes.

Amor.

I thank thee Betty, but I fear my Fate, How near was I, to being Fortunate.

Exeunt severally.

Scene a Bed-chamber, a Table out, and a Chair.

Enter Mr. Easy, and Peg.

Easy.

O Woman! monstrous Woman! Argus eyes quotha'! ye an hundred were not able to watch one Woman, a curse upon the whole Sex, and foolish Man for being so fond of 'em. Oh I am sick, very sick with fretting, ten years are taken from my time with this nights work, but I have her fast, and will as soon as day appears con∣jure her into better manners, oh my heart! But all my consolationis in thee my dear Wife.

undresses himself.

Peg.

What the Devil shall I say, or do? I dare not turn my Face toward the light, least he shou'd know me, and if I speak, I fear that will betray me, if I refuse to go to Bed, I discover all my Mistresses secrets, and then we are undone, if I go to Bed — Why then—Heaven knows what—

Aside

Easy.

I am happy in this yet, that I in thee my Hony, have a loving Vertuous Wife, one that's above all the little Lightnesses of her Sex, yes, her villanous Sex, Come, come to Bed my Love.

Peg.

Sir, since 'tis so near day, and you so hasty to take Revenge upon Grace, we had e'n as good save the labour of undressing.

Easy.

By no means, to Bed I say, that I may take a little repose, after this harasssing of my Spirits, but still I am thrice happy in thee.

Peg.

Aye, wou'd you knew all — no hopes yet— No Mistriss come, what shall I do? she is so taken up with her more soft affairs, that she minds not how rashly I am like to be us'd with this old Master of mine.

aside

Easy.

Thou hast but one only fault, and that is, not loving thy Bed, prithee reform that lewd and scandalous way of life, of sitting up late.

Peg.

Lord, that he shou'd blame any Woman, that refuses to go into a pair of Sheets with him.

aside

Easy.

Undress I say, or I shall be most villanous angry agen.

Peg.

It must out, and it will out, but I am to be excus'd, for I have plaid my part, and counterfeited, till I am come to almost past coun∣terfeiting. To Bed quotha', 'Slife I had as live lye in a Charnel house, I don't blame my Mistriss for loving another, but hark, I hear a rusling

[noise below]

'tis certainly she, oh that I were now transform'd.

aside

Easy.

Why the Devil, come you not to Bed?

Peg.

I am hasting as fast as I can Sir.

undresses her self.

Please you to go in before, I won't stay a moment after you.

Easy.

Oh the intollerable Pride, and Plague of Woman-kind! I tell ye I will not budge a foot without ye, therefore come away, I will break thee of this humour at last.

pulls her in.

Peg.

Oh undone! quite undone!

Enter as below Mrs. Easy, and Lovechange.

Mrs. Easy.

All is husht, and still, I hope all's well, oh my dearest Lovechange, if you did but know with what regret I leave you, your pitty, wou'd certainly augment your love. 'Tis almost day, and yet methinks 'tis but a little moment we have been together: Oh how short the hours of love and pleasure seem.

Lov.

I think so too my Dear, wou'd it had pleas'd the gods to have bound us thus eternally together.

Mrs. Easy.

Can you dear Lovechange, speak this Language still? after enjoyment, men grow dull, and cold.

Lov.

Number not me, amongst the common rout of those, whose beastly Appetite begets a short liv'd passion, mine like the object that first caus'd it, is pure, unchangable, without deceit.

Mrs. Easy.

I must believe you, and must love you too, but we must part, oh that ungrateful word!

Lov.

But we must meet agen, that only hope attones for the un∣kindness of the other, pray don't suffer many hours to pass, before you let me see you, I shall dye with one whole day of absence.

Mrs. Easy.

You please me, when you do but wish to see me, and to return that goodness, for 'tis such

[sighs]

Ile study how to love, and how to please, and how to keep you ever in this state — This bless'd Estate of loving. But this is an Argument we must discourse at large of, now Sir adieu, for the first time I think we have done well.

Lov.

I cannot leave the house, till I know how you speed with your too passionate Husband.

Mrs. Easy.

Ile creep softly up, if he be asleep, I'me safe, for nothing but the noise of money can wake him, attend you below.

Exeunt severally.

A Bed-chamber discover'd, with Peg and Mr. Easy in't.

Peg.

Discover'd! and undone!

Easy.

Betray'd! ruin'd betray'd! oh thou wicked, thou treache∣rous Wretch, where's my Wife, my lewd, wicked Wife?

Peg.

Are you mad?

Easy.

Yes, I am, and will shew it, thou Eternal Baggage.

Peg.

So now let him strike,

They fight, Peg puts out the Candle. Exit Peg.

if he can aim well.

Easy.

This shan't serve your turn, I will cudgel thee, till I have not left a bit of skin on thy bones, I don't expect thou shou'dst tell me whereabouts thou art, no Huswife, Ile feel you out

he gropes to find her.

I will, and so feel thee, that thou shalt feel me too.

Enter Peg softly, and Mrs. Easy, in the same night-Gown that Peg had on.

Peg.

So, now go you in, and receive a blow or two, and be sure you cry out lustily, and Ile come to your assistance with a Candle.

To Mrs. Easy aside. Exit Peg

Mrs. Easy.

Good dear Husband be'nt so passionate, what have I done to cause this?

Mr. Easy.

Thou impudent Harlot, dost call me Husband? tell me truly, confess, confess, what Rogue, has got thy Mistriss out, where is she a Catterwawling? confess, or I will dissect thee, for thou art her Pimp —

beats her.

Mrs. Easy.

Your grief has made you lunatick, I am your Wife, hold, hold your prophane hands.

Mr. Easy.

No, I will mark thee with a Vengeance, Ile spoil your Pimping.

Mrs. Easy.

Murther, murther, since you are so inhumane, I will have no mercy on your Reputation, murther!

Enter Peg with a Light.

Peg.

Bless me! what do I see, my dear Mistriss?

Mr. Easy.

Ha, ha, her dear Mistriss? 'tis so, 'tis so, I, I, thou art Peg, and this is my own sweet Wife.

looks on 'um both.

Mrs. Easy.

Sir, pray let me know why you use me thus? Is it not enough that you have married me to an old stinking Carcass, a use∣less thing, but you must beat me? I will no more endure you, no not the sight of thee.

Mr. Easy.

Sweet Wife, most merciful Wife, bear with the frailties of my age.

Mrs. Easy.

I have born with 'em too long.

Mr. Easy.

Aye, there's it, It's that sticks by thee, but dear Wife I protest, I took thee all this while for Peg.

Mrs. Easy.

How came you to mistake?

Mr. Easy.

Why, when I was in bed, as you made me go before, you know, I fancy'd that the Papers which you were looking on at the Table —

Peg.

Which was no other then a Prayer-Book to prolong time only.

To Mrs. Easy aside

Mr. Easy:

And thinking it might have been a Love-Letter (for I am naturally jealous) stole out of Bed, and looking thee full in the face, I thought thou hadst been Peg, very Peg; as I am a lover of thy vertue, I know not how I came to be mistaken, but so 'twas, and I dare swear —

Peg.

What Sir, that 'twas I? Lord how merry you are Sir.

Mrs. Easy.

And must I suffer, because you are old and blind?

Mr. Easy.

Truth is, 'tis very unreasonable, pardon me my fair, my Angelical Wife, I will never trust my eyes again in this case.

Peg,

Pray forsooth bear with his Weakness, and the Infirmity of Age.

Mr. Easy.

Ah how she aggravates my crime, old, and age were no

harm, but that she's brisk and youthful, patience, good Lady, pa∣tience.

Mrs. Easy.

I'me resolv'd Ile pardon ye this once, in pitty to your years.

Mr. Easy.

Aye, there 'tis agen.

Mrs. Easy.

But if ever I find you faulty again, Ile be divorc'd.

Mr. Easy.

Thou hast reason, for on my Consccience thou art as good a Virgin, as when I had thee.

Peg.

Ile deny that, or she has past her night but ill.

Aside.

Mrs. Easy.

I will not bed with you to night, for besides that I am exceedingly offended with you, you have mortifi'd all inclinations of a Bedfellow in me, and so fare you well Sir.

Mr. Easy.

Patience I say— though I have no great matter to do a bed with her, yet I dare not trust her out of my sight,— but I must let her have her will this once,

[aside]

have you forgiven me?

Mrs. Easy.

I shall do by the morning perhaps.

Exit Mr. Easy.

So, go thy ways, and dream, if thou hast any subject for it in thy Brain, whilst Ile to Lovechange, and in his arms, compleat the rest of this so well begun night.

Peg.

I too, deserve something for acting' so judiciously in this affair.

Mrs. Easy.

Thou, dear Peg, art Loves Matchivil, and deserv'st a Statue rear'd to thy memory for all honest discreet Maids to wor∣ship.

Peg.

Haste Madam, for Mr. Lovechange stays to take a parting kiss I'me glad we are come off so nobly, and that you have a little time, good for a little more delight, when you are pleas'd, we must contrive some way to free poor Mrs. Grace, who suffers for Loves sake too.

Mrs. Easy.

Let me alone for that.

Exeunt ambae.

Scene Mrs. Woodbee's house.

Enter Clare.

Clare.

I wonder in my heart, where this Mistriss of mine is, she'l e'n stay till 'tis light, and discover her self, pray Heavens she come before the house is up.

Enter Mrs. Woodbee▪

Oh Madam I'me glad you are come before my Master, well how thriv'd you Madam?

Wood.

Just as I wisht Girl, and as we contriv'd it, he met me at the Duck-Pond side, where we stay'd most part of the night. Oh had the Joys which I receiv'd been meant to me!

Clare.

Madam you see, what imagination can do, and did he do as he ought to do Madam?

Wood.

O Clare! he said and did so many kind things to me!

Clare.

So many say you Madam? Nay then we shall have him come home as tame, and pensive, as a Gamester, out-done in his own Trade of Nicking, now it may be I may go quietly about my busi∣ness, all this day at least.

Wood.

And I may lye quietly too, unless I can cheat him agen, well I was never so pleas'd, and displeas'd in my Life before, some way I will find to be reveng'd.

Clare.

Some such Comical way.

Wood.

No my hopes are gone for ever having of him this way in my power, oh this treacherous man that I have so oblig'd.

Clare.

And he has this night made some returns.

Wood.

Stay, when I think how great a satisfaction 'twas to him to believe himself in the Arms of Mrs. Easy I can't think of a better re∣venge, then to let him know it was not she.

Clare.

Why, will you tell him Madam?

Wood.

Yes, and at once destroy his vain glory, and let him know how sensible I am of the affront, if he has any sence of shame, or ho∣nour, this may reclaim him.

Enter Lovechange singing, taking no notice of his Wife.

He's coming; how now Mr. Lovechange, what no good morrow after a whole nights absence.

Lov.

What the Devil do you up so early? you become your bed far better.

Wood.

I can't rest Mr. Lovechange, when you are not there.

Lov.

You must use your self to such things, Husband and Wife, were not made to lye Eternally together.

Wood.

Why, Mr. Lovechange, what other use can you put your self to a nights?

Lov.

I thank ye for that I'faith—What—then to lye with my own Wife? as I take it, there were no Articles between you, and I, to leave off any part of my former Trade, as Drinking, Ga∣ming—

Wood.

And Whoring.

Lov.

Nay, my Dear, as for that—believe me, I have left it quite off. A man that has a Wife so experienc'd as thou art, so kind, so willing a Wife, faith I think he were worse then a Tyger to abuse thee, thou hast all my stock, believe me dear Soul.

Wood.

Which is a very small one.

Lov.

Faith a Man, that drinks, and Games, can't be very brisk that way.

Wood.

Drinking was ever counted an Enemy to our Sex, but pray Sir how does gaming abuse it?

Lov.

Why faith, if a Man has ill luck, as likely I have — What with Fretting, Swearing, Damming, and throwing, my Spirits dis∣perse, which shou'd retire to the place you wot on.

Wood.

You think any excuse may serve for a Wife, all this, may make you unkind at home, but do the Ladies abroad find your fret∣ting, Damming, Swearing, and throwing, disperse Nature in you?

Lov.

Ah! I see where the Worm bites, thou art politickly jea∣lous of me.

Wood.

Oh fye! Jealous? (that were a fault indeed) of one so kind, so just, and true a Husband as you are Mr. Lovechange.

Lov.

Thou hast said all in a word, Egad I wou'd not change thee for the finest Miss in Town.

Wood.

Yes, there is a certain Lady, that for a Night, you did not care, if you made an exchange with.

Lov.

Who I? I defie the World.

Wood.

You have not been to Night, with the dearest, the finest Woman?

Lov.

How! 'Slife, this comes home to me.

aside.

Who I! I've been Drinking, and Gaming, away with these jealous Fopperies.

Wood.

You were more oblig'd to the kind shades in St. Iames's Park, than to the Moon, who's light perhaps might have discover'd your errour.

Lov.

O confound her! all's out, how came she to know it?

aside

Wood.

What are you studying for an excuse? a lye to put me off with?

Lov.

I will out-face her.

aside

Now art thou as mad, as blind Love and Jealousie can make thee, prithee to Bed and settle thy Brain, go—

Wood.

Mr. Lovechange, I have no other end in this, more then to let you know your errour, and that I am sensible of the indignity, take notice I knew of your meeting at the Duck-Pond side, and shall reward your kindness.

She offers to go out.

Lov.

Duck-Pond side? Stay, I grow serious, that I have infinite obligations to thee, I must ever own, and I had nothing to return you back, but this bare sub∣stance, and a gratitude, and what the heats of youth may prompt me too I can't tell; But when you ask me truly what they are I will in∣form your knowledge, and what you charge me with of this nights action, believe me Madam, is false information, I saw no woman, by the Duck-Pond side.

Wood.

How can I credit this? and yet I shou'd believe him,

aside

perhaps my eyes inform'd me of your falshood, I am not apt to credit evil Tongues.

Lov.

Oh don't pursue an errour, to my prejudice; upon my Ho∣nour; by all the vows of sacred Love, and Marriage, I was not near that place, but something I remember past last night, 'twixt whom I know not, that perhaps deceiv'd you. Ile search it out and satisfie your Jealousie.

Wood.

Oh Heavens! if this be true what thing am I?

aside

Lov.

Come don't vex thy self with peevishness, don't create these ills, that will torment thee. Ile satisfie thy doubt, believe me Dear.

Wood.

Oh I am ruin'd,

[aside]

if he be not false, how hard a fate is mine— Ile take your word Sir.

Exit Lovechange

Clare.

For Heavens sake, Madam keep your courage up, for if you have Cuckold my Master by — mistake, 'tis the best way to put as good a face on't, as you can, there's no recalling it. Lord what a business you make of a thing that is not worth speaking of.

Wood.

But guilt's a strange thing Clare.

Clare.

Why you don't believe him sure, can all your sences fail you, or will you credit him, in spight of 'em all, you saw, you heard, and felt too, as you say.

Wood.

They were all prepar'd to receive him, without any other imagination, and might be easily deceiv'd.

Clare.

But since there's no possibility of any other Person's coming then his, you ought not to give your faith so easily. But Madam, here comes Mr. Courtwell, who will perhaps discover more.

Wood.

Shame, and Confusion, will not let me hear him.

Exit with Clare

Enter Courtwell.

Court.

Now, wou'd I give the world to know this Womans name, and abode, these curiosities, don't usually last after enjoyment, one wou'd have thought I had glutted my self of Woman-kind for these two days, and of her for ever, but 'twas a sweet plump active Rogue. 'Slife, yonder's the Rogue Love-change,

Enter Lovechange pensive.

he looks like a defeated Lover — But what the Devil makes him here at the Widdows, well a rich Widdow is the very sink of younger Brothers, and harbours more then a Gaming house, I don't like his being here though, it looks like Rivalship, and though it be but Justice in him, yet I can by no means permit it▪ It makes me angry—Why how now Lovechange, methinks thou look'st melanchol∣ly upon't, what no hope from the Widdow? for I perceive you Rival me.

Lov.

Oh trouble not your head with the Widdow, you may re∣member I told ye she was not for your turn.

Court.

Are you sure of that?

Lov.

Most certain.

Court.

And are you the Man, the happy Man.

Lov.

Why, what exceptions have you against me, what, Ile war∣rant, you thought the noise of Lands, and Joynctures wou'd have carried it, but know Will, that Wit, and Parts are greater Motives.

Court.

And does your conceit Edward! perswade you to the be∣lief, that you are so qualify'd?

Lov.

Faith, I never studied that, but the Ladies are kind, and do tell me of some such charms I am Master of.

Court.

The Lady too Ned, that you met in the Park, she has that goodness for you too, hah!

Lov.

She is satisfy'd, and that's sufficient.

Court.

I hope she was, for I did my best. Lord Ned, that thou shou'd'st be so simple, to believe thy self Master of all hearts. All the Ladies submit to you dear Ned, so did the Lady in the Mall, did she not; But there was a Man, (though not so considerable as you Sir) that pleas'd her better by the Duck-Pond side, and perhaps may make as good an interest in her, as you have in the Widdows heart, you guess the Man, and so farewel Ned, farewel, ha, ha, ha.

Offers to go out.

Lov.

Prithee stay, Egad thou art pleasant company my dear Soul; and was there say you? was there such a spark? that did the feat so well at the Duck-Pond side? ha, ha, ha?

Court.

I am glad you are so merry Sir.

Lov.

Faith, I can't forbear being infinitely pleas'd to find my friend so happy, I am glad I know this secret, I might have wanted the means to have convinc'd my Wife else, that 'twas not I, but I wonder who the Devil the Lady shou'd be, surely some one taken with my Person, and that had a certain longing — and how Will, and how did you find her? for I am willing to communicate my blessings.

Court.

Why hadst thou ever injoy'd her?

Lov.

In truth not, nor never will for ought I know.

Court.

You seem'd yesterday to praise her to the Skies, and is she faln so low in your opinion.

Lov.

She that I spoke of, was, and is the same, and nothing but Age, can alter her from being the finest, sweetest Person in the World.

Court.

I found her so,

(aside)

and in her arts of Love, so ravishing—

Lov.

And was she brisk that way, say you? Will.

Court.

To a miracle, I can't contain my joy, I must discover all— and now dear Lovechange if thou wou'dst let me know her name, and quality?

Lov.

By my troth Sir, if I cou'd serve you this way, you might command me; But you are already happy enough, be not too glo∣rious with it.

Court.

What humour's this, I can't understand him, but Clare must be my guide— Your Servant Sir, since you are so fantastique.

Lov.

Your Servant dear Will, ha, ha.

Exit Lovechange.

Enter Perigreen dressing him.

Court.

I cannot comprehend this Fellow's fancy, now I am for the Widdow, whom I must gain in spight of all her peevishness, I know she has no a version to my Person, and though I don't love her much, yet, my Pride obliges me to come off Conquerour, but oh this other lovely, kind, obliging Stranger.

Per.

Oh excess of Treachery!

Court.

Who's here, ere another Rival? Pox on 'em, how they swarm about a rich Widdow, 'Slife, I think he's dressing himself.

Per.

Sure Courtwell loves this Lady, for methinks he is very active, how shall I accost him, how as a stranger shall I begin a discourse to him? Ile pretend I am his Rival.

aside

Court.

Your Servant Sir.

Per.

Yours Sir, proceed if you have ought with me?

Court.

You look and talk Sir, as if you were Major Domo.

Per.

It may be Sir I am, will that afflict you?

Court.

My name is Courtwell Sir, and I pretend to the Lady of this Mansion.

Per.

Very likely! but whether she will fall to your share or not, is a great question.

Court.

Not to be made by a School-boy, pretty Lad, hast any nickers, or cherry-stones? if thou hast, there be Children of thy own size without, will hold thee play.

Per.

Oh Sir, Ile give you leave to be witty with my youth, whilst I laugh at your gravity, and wisdom. In short Sir, if the Lady likes the Boy, better then your Manhood, you'l find cold entertainment, go Sir, take this answer, she is not for your turn, go Sir, you loose your time, there is a certain kind, obliging Lady.

Court.

Oh the Devil have they that story by the end too? Well this Clare has betraid me, however this little diminutive Man, sha'not affront me, yet hang't he's a child not worth my malice.

Offers to go.

Per.

Hold Sir, you pass no further this way, that leads you to the door.

Court.

Prit hee unhand me youth, thou'lt make me angry, and then I were too blame, with so much innocence.

Per.

None of your put off's Sir, I am not so young, nor innocent, as you take me to be; I can do many things that wou'd proclaim me Man, don't upbraid the smoothness of my Chin, my Sword's as rough as thine, and I dare draw it.

Court.

Very pretty. Lord how it tattles, why little talking Monsieur, by what authority do you resist me? can that fair Face dis∣guise it self in anger? and that's the most that thou canst do, let's see thee frown, that perhaps wou'd break a Ladies heart, a soft, young silly Lady, but I make sport at theee, ha, ha, ha.

Per.

What shall I do, to raise his anger up? For I had rather that way meet my Death, then see him in the embraces of a∣nother: That will but kill me a more cruel way.

[aside]

Come Sir, though you are pleas'd, I can be angry, you shall find the effects on't, but this is no place to decide the business in, Ile meet you in the Park, a pass, or two will end the fatal difference.

Court.

Sure he has some other motive then the love of the Wid∣dow, that carries him to this rashness, the Boy grows angry, serious, and can fight perhaps.

aside

Per.

No consideration Sir, if you refuse to fight me, I will Pistol ye, take your choice to live with Honour, or to dye with Infamy.

Court.

Well Sir, Ile meet you there, but don't care for fighting with thee much.

Per.

I have Conditions too for Peace, as well as War, and love fight∣ing, as little as you, I'me glad he consents to go out o'th house, I don't care to have my story known to any but himself, who onely can relieve me.

Exeunt ambo