The amorous old-vvoman: or, 'tis vvell if it take. A comedy. Acted by His Majesties servants. Written by a person of honour.

ACTUS IV.

SCENA I.

Clara, Arabella.

Cla.

I Hope you will applaud my diligence.

Ara.

Thou'rt fit to be great Loves Embassador So well thou hast manag'd this affair, First to perswade Honorio cease his claim, And then to bring me such a just account How things succeed at home— What more cou'd I expect, or thou perform?

Cla.

My duty Madam did oblige this service. She little guesses at my interest, Which add the Wings to diligence her self.

Ara.

Garbato will be ravish'd with this news, Dear Boy, how shall I recompence this service?

Cla.

Your acknowledgments are prodigal rewards; But Madam if you will enlarge your bounty, By giving me leave to attend Honorio, I shall have cause to bless your service.

Ara.

Why Boy? will that so much advantage thee?

Cla.

Make me for ever Lady—for he fancies Some kind of small resemblance in this face To your bright beauty; weeds resemble flowers, And have their use, and virtues too, so I

May palliate this Lovers misery.

Ara.

Had'st thou a Sex more suiting to thy face, Thou might'st effect a perfect cure. Methinks (If I forget not my own form,) there is Enough resemblance for a Lovers flame To feed upon.

Cla.

Madam I wish there were—

Ara.

Another Sex.

Cla.

No Madam, more resemblance.

Ara.

That wish alone were foolish, and must end In a cold friendship, which soon brings disgust. Thou cou'd'st not marry him.

Cla.

It should be much against my will then.

(aside)

Yet I cou'd live with him, and please his fancy In all the pleasures of true Love.

Ara.

That's not done in a song Boy; thou'dst come short.

Cla.

I mean I'de serve him with more fidelity Than any VVoman cou'd (except my self)

(aside)

For I wou'd make it my happiness to please him, And share a double part of all his griefs.

Ara.

Thou wou'd'st be wond'rous kind.

Cla.

As your fair self to Signior Garbato.

Ara.

'Tis pitty to divide such love, yet for both Your sakes, I wish thou wer't a female.

Cla.

I hope these breeches han't transform'd me.

(aside)

Enter Garbato and Riccamare.

Here comes my Lord, Madam I'le take my leave.

Ara.

Dear Infortunio I am loth to lose thee, Yet since Honorio prov'd so kind to me As to leave me to my choice, I'le let thee go, But take this Ring, and wear it for my sake.

Exit Clara.

My dear Garbato I have news VVill raise thy soul to such a happiness, Thou'lt think thy self in Heaven.

Gar.

Being in thy Company I am so. Yet I cou'd wish your Uncles absence,

That I migh participate your joys.

Ara.

His presence is less welcome than storms Of rain in Harvest.

Gar.

Speak softly, lest he hear you.

Ara.

Oh, I cou'd curse him!

Gar.

Do't like a Politician then, and smile in's face.

Ric.

Niece Arabella.

Gar.

You must seem attentive, for he longs To tell you his adventure.

Ric.

Were you at leisure I cou'd give you a Description of the strangest piece of deformity.

Ara.

I am ever at leasure to hear you.

Gar.

How soon Women learn to dissemble?

Ric.

You have seen Mother Shiptons Picture.

Ara.

Before her Prophecies I think I have.

Ric.

Just such a prognosticating Nose had this Sucking Damsel I went to woee, she was So young that she had not a natural Tooth in her head.

Ara.

He'll be as tedious now—

Ric.

They're all Ivory, and those dy'd Saffron by The contagion of her breath, the putrefaction Whereof might breed a Plague (if the Wind Sate right) as far as Piemont.

Gar.

Thou hast as little kindness for an Old Woman As a Hangman for a Thie••, for like him thou Wou'dst Murther the race thou desir'st to advance Thy fortunes, and live by.

Ric.

I'de as soon live in my Grandsirs valut, and Keep Company with the Worms of my dead Ancestors.

Gar.

I thought Riches wou'd have digested any imperfection.

Ric.

Except hers, had it been a common ugliness—

Gar.

As the Battery of the Nose in the French War.

Ric.

Gold might have excus'd it.

Gar.

Or say sh'ad been as wry-mouth'd as a Plase.

Ric.

I wou'd have digested that too, and kist her less But to have a surfled Mouth, with too much Nose,

Neither Eyes, nor Hair on her brows, A Toothless chops, with brisled Chin, A Pate as bald, as e're was seen, With parchment hide, and timber Legs, VVou'd make a Man forswear such Megs,

Ara.

VVill he ne're have done?

(aside)

Gar.

I fear he has but begun yet.

Ric.

Such accumulated imperfections did I never Behold, they were beyond the Power of Gold To qualifie.

Gar.

Then you're quite out of conceit with Gold And Old Women.

Ric.

Not whil'st the beauty of the Gold will balance The ugliness of the VVoman.

Gar.

Ha, ha, ha, we'll find you out a handsomer, Come Arabella, I long to hear thy news.

Exeunt.

Ric.

So they are got together, and think themselves More happy than the Gods; but soft young Friend, Since the wealthy hopes of this old VVidow VVere Parents to my kindness, they being vanish'd 'Tis just my love expire into some new advantage To my self, which ••'le extract from their Loves; The Plot begins to ripen.

Exit.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Clara, Amante following.

Aman.

Stay thou blest shape, Amante bids thee stop; VVith what a flying Speed she makes away, As if displeas'd I shou'd detain my Clara So long in Torment by my fruitless passion. Dear soul of my deceased love, but stay!

••neels.

Some hold that Saints can't hear us when we pray.

Then how shou'd she poor Soul, who is in pain For thy inconstancy? thy prayers are vain. Yet since I cannot love her less, I'le try To bear her punishment my self, and dye.

Exit.

Scena Tertia.

Cicco, Buggio, Furfante.

Cic.

But is she so beautiful withal?

Bug.

Fresh as Aurora, before the rising Sun.

Fur.

Cleopatra was a Gypsie to her, and Helen a Black Dowdy. I'le outlie him if possible.

Cic.

So fair, and rich?

Bug.

Richer than Croesus, she spends more in a year Than his Catholick Majesty has been cozen'd of Since the first discovery of America.

Fur.

This is nothing Sir, they say that Gold is more Plentiful with her than Mackarel in their Season, or Cherryes at a Crania a pound.

Bug.

He'll outdo me in my own Art.

Cic.

VVhy knew I not this sooner?

Fur.

I thought your VVorships capering days VVere done, and that you wou'd not have committed Your grave head to the Matrimonial Noose At these years.

Cic.

At these years Knave! do I look so old?

Bug.

Young as a stripling of eighteen.

Fur.

Or a Cherry in May, you are green agen.

Cic.

I think I am as fresh, and vigorous as VVhen I went to School.

Bug.

Y' are like the year Sir, and ev'ry spring renew your youth.

Fur.

As Girles in Rome, their Maiden••heads. But you have a Daughter Sir.

Cic.

VVhat then? because she'll pine away with the Sorrel sickness, and die for Love, must I not marry?

Bug.

'Twere pitty on your life else.

Fur.

She grieves poor Lady, and sees no body.

Cic.

She'll be less subject to temptation, I must Mind my own affairs first.

Enter Riccamare.

Ric.

Save you, good Brother.

Cic.

Is he come to interrupt us—dear Buggio Let's to th' Window.

Ric.

VVhat have you found your Daughter yet?

Bug.

Now are we lost, without a double brazen impudence.

Cic.

Is he mad? found my Daughter! when was She lost?

Ric.

Not lost!

Bug.

He has certainly a design upon your VVidow, And wou'd keep you off with a Tale Of your Daughter.

Cic.

A Tale of a Tub, I'le hear none of't, I must Beg your pardon, I'me engag'd about a business VVhich concerns me nearly.

Ric.

You'll hear of your Daughter first?

Cic.

I hear of her too much, she's above weeping, but I am in haste.

Exeunt Cicco & Furfante.

Bug.

VVhat speedy wings does avarice bestow On creeping age! he flyes that scarce cou'd go.

Exit.

Ric.

VVeeping in her Chamber! 'tis strange, nay 'Tis impossible, I left her but even now With Garbato plighting amorous Vows, His strange behaviour much amazes me, I know not what to think, less what to do, My whole design to supplant Arabella And make my self as next a Kin, his heir, is lost. He's damn'd in his belief that she's above, I'me in a mist, yet sometimes things appear At a great distance, when they're near at hand. So painted Prospects do deceive the Eye And seems remote when on a flat they lie. So may my fortune, I'le have th' other pluck; If then I fail, a plague of all ill luck.

Exit.

Scena Quarta.

Honorio, Clara as a Page, Constantia.

Hon.

It was a little piece of charity To send thee back to be my Comforter.

Cla.

I wish 'twere in my power; but for me Who am the very abstract of misfortune To undertake anothers grief wou'd prove Too great a madness, and too little love.

Con.

Thou art deceiv'd, sorrows find most relief In stories like themselves.

Hon.

Therefore dear Boy Impart this History, if it be sad 'Twill better suit our thoughts.

Cla.

I am so young, you cannot well expect Various adventures from my Childish Love, Yet old enough for Loves severity, Who quickly found a passage to my heart, Which soon ador'd an object much too fair Not to be predispos'd of; things of value Are coveted by all, and I soon found love Had preingag'd that heart t'another, Which my soul languish'd for.

Con.

Alas poor Boy!

Cla.

Yet to this grief there did succeed a joy, For that heart being refus'd, I thence deriv'd A fresh, and lingring hope.

Hon.

Why, that was well.

Cla.

That seeming heaven did increase my torment. For I by Nature bashful, had not then the courage To speak my Love, of which they're ignorant. And I by consequence must always pine, Unable to assist my own design.

Hon.

Thy fate's severe; but 'tis thy folly Boy

Which makes it so. But cruel Love so crosses my design, My Mistress cannot (if she wou'd) be mine.

Cla.

And 'tis as much impossible for me T' express my flame, as 'tis for her to love: But if you'd please to undertake my cause I know it wou'd succeed.

Hon.

I cannot Boy, I've bound my self by Oath Never to speak of Love to Woman more.

Cla.

As from your self, you still may speak for me.

Con.

Dear Brother do, I pitty his misfortune.

Hon.

My vow was general concerning Love; But you are free Constantia.

Con.

'Tis not a thing for me to undertake, That always have in love been so succesless.

Hon.

May we not know her name?

Cla.

'Tis not a Woman that I love, Yet we a Man and Wise might prove, If that our hearts cou'd but agree As well as Sexes sympathie.

Hon.

This is a kind of a riddle.

Cla.

But easily unfolded.

Hon.

Trust mo th' unriddling will require some time, VVhat sayes Constantia?

Con.

My thoughts have been so taken up of late 'Twixt love and grief, that I have lost that art.

Cla.

It is unworthy either of your thoughts.

Hon.

The kindness of this Boy does puzle me

(aside)

For either I mistake him or he loves me, In an extreame that misbecomes his Sex. It must be sure some Virgin in disguise.

Cla.

I must confess you have discover'd me, But you who know so much of love your self

to Constantia.

Know best to pitty the extremities love has compell'd me to.

Hon.

'Tis evident, the riddle does import it. She loves no VVoman, therefore loves a Man, And if a Man who can't divine her Sex?

I'le set Constantia to discover all.

Con.

In all I can, I will assist your love▪

to Clara.

But lest my Brother should unfold too soon Your Oracle, divert him with a Song.

SONG.

I never shall henceforth approve The Deity of Love Since he cou'd be So far unjust as to wound me, And leave my Mistress free. As if my flame cou'd leave a Print Vpon a heart of flent. Can flesh and stone Be ere converted into one, By my poor flame alone? Were be a God, he'd neither be Partial to her, nor me, But by a Dart Directed into eithers heart Make both so feel the smart, That being heated with his subtitle fire Our loves might make us feel but one desire.

Hon.

How cravingly he look'd upon me now, As if he had a boon he sham'd to ask▪ There's somewhat hid beneath that borrowed shape I must know more of.

Exit Honorio.

Con.

So, let him chew upon the riddle Till we have ripen'd our design, But art thou sure Amante dotes on thee?

Cla.

Am I sure when the Sun shines 'tis day?

Con.

Then I'le renew my hopes, since his revolt Is to an object can't return him love.

Cla.

Let's then assist each other in our loves, I'le use my art to make Amante thine.

Con.

The readiest way's to wed thee to Honorio. For when in thee his amorous hopes are dead, He'll soon return to th' Love from whence he fled.

Exeunt.

Scena Quinta.

Enter Honorio.

Hon.

It shou'd be Clara; yet she's too discreet To trust her modesty to that disguise, Yet she's a Woman, and moreover loves, And few are known Lovers, and wise at once, It must be she, and I the easie fool That gave her credir, she might feign the message, And make false use of Arabella's Name, If so I'me lost to her, and to her Father, My honour and my love destroy'd at once, One I may yet reprieve.

Enter Amante.

But see, Amante! that wound of fame gives No Precedency to lesser quarrells: then whil'st

(draws)

I prefer my honour, Love, take thou a Sepulcher.

Aman.

Sure he intends some mischief to himself. Tho' I wou'd dye, I'le lend a helping Arm To save his life, hold, brave Honorio, hold, Let that reason which I want vanquish Thy Passion—kill not thy self.

Hon.

I do not find an inclination to it▪ Tho' life before was irksom, since I discern A fitter subject for my Enmity.

Aman.

I scarcely understand you.

Hon.

I shall explain my self— I drew to make your yield me satisfaction For that dear honour which my Sisters fears Compell'd me lose, when I fail'd meeting you, To justifie the injurious words I gave you.

Aman.

Those Injuries Honorio are forgot.

Hon.

I can't forgive my Honour such a blot, In you 'tis noble to forgive, in me Shou'd I accept, as great an Infamy.

Honour takes nothing when she's in arrear Lest what's meant kindness be miscall'd a fear. Therefore Amante if you can afford Me any favour, let it be your Sword.

Aman.

As a Present take it; I dare rely Your honour's too great security For me to doubt; or shou'd you take this life 'Twou'd ease my grief, and finish all my strife.

Hon.

My hand is furnish'd Sir, but if you'll part More nobly with it, present it to my heart.

Aman.

I'de rather wound my own, and by one blow Destroy that Friend, whom you wou'd make your foe.

Hon.

If Friend unto my same, you must confess What I affirm'd was true, and ask my pardon.

Aman.

If nothing less Sir, can appease your rage, Than owning my self Coward, Honorio Must excuse me, tho' I promis'd Constantia To bear an injury beyond mans patience. Fame never shall report a VVomans tears Destroy'd Amante's honour. I'de give my life, if live wou'd satisfie; But dare not Friendship with dishonour buy.

Hon.

Then draw—

Aman.

I do, and in as just a cause

(draws)

As Power when she Executes by Laws.

Hon.

Stay, to shew I don't delight in blood I'le only urge my Sister might Return her love, and make but good her claim, I'le own you by a Friends and Brothers name.

Aman.

I can't alas consent, in Clara's grave (Where e're it is) I have intomb'd my heart.

Hon.

But what if she be still alive?

Aman.

I'le love her till she be dispos'd of to another.

Hon.

It must be Clara wandring for my sake

(aside)

In that disguise, if so, it lyes in me To marrry her, and that may set him free. But then my Arabella! she may prove

Still undispos'd, my first and dearest Love, I'le never hazard thee, I am resolv'd—

Aman.

To fight—

Hon.

Or basely be deny'd.

Aman.

You sha'not find a Coward.

they fight.

Hon.

I believe It—Come on.

Aman.

So you have drawn the first blood.

Hon.

I see I have, shall we put up?

Aman.

No Sir I can as little put up this As you your Sisters injury; the Coward Sticks here still.

they ••ight.

So, we're on even terms, what say you now?

Hon.

My Sister's unreveng'd.

Aman.

I do renounce that quarrel as unjust And will at any time implore her pardon, As I have often done. Sir you shall see I can be noble in inconstancy. As for The other slanders, I pronounce them▪ And their Author false.

Hon.

These are but words▪

Aman.

You shall have deeds to testifie I am no Coward, Nor asperser of a Ladies fame.

(fight)

Enter Clara, Constantia, and run between them.

Cla.

Hold, oh hold your hands.

Con.

Imploy your Swords on us, for that wou'd be A greater kindness than severitie. It wou'd destroy our grief, as well as lives Which in your dangers cruelly survives.

Hon.

Good Sister give us way—

pushes her away.

Cla.

Madam be resolute, we'll rather fall As Martyrs to prevent their Funeral.

Con.

They shan't constrain us to a misery, If they will fight, let us agree to dye.

Cla.

I am content.

Con.

Prepare thy Ponyard then, And in our courage let us vie with them.

they hold their dag∣gers ready to strike.

Aman.

Hold! you have unarm'd me quite.

Hon.

And conquer'd me.

Cla.

Then we may triumph in our Victory.

Con.

Triumph! alas what comfort can we find? Preserving Lovers to be still unkind.

Cla.

Preserv'd them! no Constantia they bleed, and faint away.

Con.

'Tis too true, what's to be done?

they fall down.

Each drop Amante sheds, draws from my heart A flood, nor is my soul much less concern'd For my dear Brother, oh my misery! Nature, and Love, do equally contend, VVhom shall I save my Brother, or my Friend?

Cla.

Madam be comforted; this sacred stone Has a choice Virtue to stop bleeding wounds, And send the blood back to th' distressed heart. I'le try it on Honorio.

she applys it.

Hon.

Oh, ho.

Cla.

See he revives

Con.

But poor Amante labours still beneath the Pangs of death; oh lend it here.

Cla.

Then will your Brother faint.

Con.

Why let him perish rather than Amante.

Cla.

Honorio perish! ah, how can you be So cruel in your foolish charity? To save a Man so false, and let a Brother Dye, so good as my Honorio?

Con.

Not thine, but Arabella's, Clara.

Hon.

That sound was most Divine—Dear Arabella!

Aman.

What Angels voice pronounc'd fair Clara's name?

Con.

A Wretch you once did love— Open your Eyes and you at once may see Your cruel Clara, and kind Constancy.

Aman.

That beauteous form, is she then in disguise?

Cla.

Believe her not; she only us'd this art, To make your blood return into your heart. I'me but her Brother Sir.

Aman.

Then tell me, where She lives; if dead, shew me her Sepulc're.

Cla.

Within a day, I'le shew her you ailve.

Aman.

I'le strive to live upon that hope.

Con.

They begin both to give good signs of a Recovery.

Cla.

This wound seems almost clos'd; Apply the Stone to him, there can't be found In Art, or Natures Treasury so good A stenching Medicine for a stream of blood.

Hon.

It seems to me miraculous, I find It strengthens both the body and the mind. How fares Amante?

Aman.

Better to see my Friend so near his health.

Hon.

I am now in Amity with all the World, and find (I praise the Gods) a sweet recess from love.

Aman.

My thanks kind Youth, thou dost not only give Me life, but likewise a desire to live, By assuring me of Clara's recovery.

Con.

Wretched Constantia, thou art never thought on.

Cla.

Y'had best retire Sir, th' air is cold, And may offend your wounds.

Hon.

I thank your care. Signior Amante come, we'll now be Friends, Since eithers blood has made too large amends For all past injuries.

Aman.

Here take my hand, And with't a heart devoted to your service: If you in any thing be disobey'd Impute the fault to love, and not t' Amante.

Con.

In ev'ry Truce of love I still must be Like one exempt! we are not to agree.

Exeunt.