Love and a bottle a comedy, as it is acted at the Theatre-Royal in Drury-Lane by His Majesty's servants / written by Mr. George Farquhar.

SCENE, An Antichamber in Lucinda's house; The Flat Scene half open, discovers a Bed-Chamber; Lucinda in her Night-Gown, and reading by a Table.

Enter Roebuck groping his way.

R••••b.

ON what new happly Climate am I thrown?

This house is Loves Labyrinth; I have stumbled into it by chance.—Ha! an Illusion! Let me look again.—Eyes, if you play me false, (Looking about) I'll pluck ye out.—'Tis she; 'tis Lucinda! alone, undress'd, in a Bed-Chamber, between Eleven and Twelve a Clock.—A blessed opportunity!—Now if her innate Principle of Vertue defend her, then is my innate Principle of Manhood not worth Two-pence.—Hold, she comes forward.—

[Lucinda approaches, reading.

Luc.

Unjust Prerogative of faithless Man, Abusing Pow'r which partial Heaven has granted! In former Ages, Love and Honour stood As Props and Beauties to the Female Cause; But now lie prostitute to scorn and sport. Man, made our Monarch, is a Tyrant grown, And Woman-kind must bear a second Fall.

Roeb.

Aside.

Ay, and a third too, or I'm mistaken.—I must divert this plaguy Romantick humour.

Luc.

While Vertue guided Peace, and Honour War, Their Fruits and Spoils were off'rings made to Love.

Roeb.

And 'tis so still; for (Raising his Voice.) Beau with earliest Cherries Miss does grace, And Soldier offers spoils of Flanders Lace.

Luc.

Ha!—Protect me Heav'ns! what art thou?

Roeb.

A Man, Madam.

Luc.

What accursed Spirit has driven you hitherto?

Roeb.

The Spirit of Flesh and Blood, Madam.

Luc.

Sir, what Encouragement have you ever received to prompt you to this Impudence?

Roeb.

Umph! I must not own the reception of a Note from her.

Aside.

Faith, Madam, I know not whether to attribute it to Chance, Fortune; my good Stars, my Fate, or my Destiny: But here I am, Madam, and here I will be.

[Taking her by the hand.

Luc.

Pulling her hand away.

If a Gentleman, my Commands may cause you withdraw; If a Russian, my Footmen shall dispose of you.

Roeb.

Madam, I'm a Gentleman; I know how to oblige a Lady, and how to save her Reputation. My Love and Honour go link'd to∣gether; they are my Principles: and if you'll be my Second, we'll en∣gage immediately.

Luc.

Stand off, Sir; the name of Love and Honour are burlesqu'd by thy Professing 'em. Thy Love is Impudence, and thy Honour a Cheat. Thy Mien and Habit shew thee a Gentleman? but thy behaviour is Bru∣tal. Thou art a Centaur; only one part Man, and the other Beast.

Roeb.

Philosophy in Peticoats! No wonder Women wear the Breeches;

aside.

and, Madam, you are a Demi-Goddess; only one part Woman, t'other Angel; and thus divided, claim my Love and Adoration.

Luc.

Honourable Love is the Parent of mankind; but thine is the Corruptor and Debaser of it. The Passion of you Libertines is like your Drunkeness; heat of Lust, as t'other is of Wine, and off with the next Sleep.

Roeb.

No, Madam; an Hair of the same—is my Receipt—Come, come, Madam, all things are laid to rest that will disturb our Pleasure, whole Nature favours us; the kind indulgent Stars that di∣rected me hither, wink at what we are about. 'Twere Jilting of Fortune to be now idle, and she, like a true Woman, once baulk'd, ne∣ver affords a second opportunity.—I'll put out the Candle, the Torch of Love shall light us to Bed.

Luc.

To Bed, Sir! Thou hast Impudence enough to draw thy Ra∣tionality in Question. Whence proceeds it? From a vain thought of thy own Graces, or an opinion of my Vertue?—If from the lat∣ter, know that I am a Woman, whose modesty dare not doubt my Vertue; yet have so much Pride to support it, that the dying Groans of thy whole Sex at my feet shou'd not extort an immodest thought from me.

Roeb.

Your thoughts may be as modest as you please, Madam.—You shall be as Vertuous to morrow morning as e're a Nun in Europe, the opinion of the World shall proclaim you such, and that's the su∣rest Charter the most rigid Vertue in England is held by. The Night has no Eyes no to see, nor have I a Tongue to tell: One kiss shall seal up my Lips for ever.

Luc.

That uncharitable Censure of Women, argues the meaness of thy Convertation.

Roeb.

Her superiour Vertue awes me into coldness. 'Slife! it can't be Twelve sure.——Night's a Lyar.

Draws out his Watch.

Luc.

Sir, if you won't be gone, I must fetch those shall Conduct you hence.—! my Eyes are dazled sure,

[Passing by him towards the door, she perceives the Jewel ty'd to the Watch.

Pray, Sir let me see that Jewel.

Roeb.

By Heavens she has a mind to't!—Oh, 'tis at your service with all my Soul.

Luc.

Wrong not my Vertue by so poor a thought.—But answer directly, as you are a Gentleman, to what I now shall ask: whence had you that Jewel?

Roeb.

I exchanged Watches with a Gentleman, and had this Jewel into the bargain. He valu'd it not, 'twas a Trifle from a Mistress.

Luc.

A Trifle said he?—Oh Indignation! slighted thus!—I'll put a Jewel out of his power, that he would pawn his Soul to re∣trieve.—If you be a Gentleman, Sir, whom Gratitude can work up to Love, or a Vertuous Wife reclaim, I'll make you a large return for that Trifle.

Roeb.

Hey-day! a Wife said she!

Luc.

What's your Name, Sir? and of what Country?

Roeb.

My Name's Roebuck, Madam.

Luc.

Roebuck.

Roeb.

'Sdeath! I forgot my Instructions.—Mockmode, Madam.—Roebuck Mockmode, my Name, and Sir-name.

Luc.

Mockmode my 'Squire! it can't be! But if it shou'd, I've made the better Exchange.—Of what Family are you, Sir?

Roeb.

Of Mockmode-Hall i•• Shropshire, Madam. My Father's lately dead; I came lately from the University; I have fifteen hundred A∣cers of as good fighting Ground as any in England.—'Twas lucky I met that Blockhead to day.

Aside.

Luc.

The very same.—And had you any directions to couat a Lady in London.

Roeb.

Umph!—How shou'd I have found the way hither else, Madam. What the Devil will this come to?

Aside.

Luc.

My Fool that I dreamt of, I find a pretty Gentleman.—Dreams go by contraries.—Well, Sir, I am the Lady; and if your Designs are Honourable, I'm yours, take a turn in the Garden, till I send for my Chaplain, you must take me immediately, for if I cool, I'm lost for ever.

Roeb.

I think I am become a very sober Shropshire Gentleman in good earnest; I don't start at the name of a Parson.—Oh For∣tune! Fortune! what art thou doing? If thou and my Friend will throw me into the arms of a fine Lady, and great Fortune, how the Devil can I help it! Oh but, Zoons, there's Marriage! Ay, but there's Money.—Oh but there are Children; sqawling Children. Ay but then there are Rickets and Small-Pox, which per∣haps may carry them all away.—Oh but there's Horns! Horns!

Ay, but then I shall go to Heaven, for 'tis but reasonable, since all Marriages are made in Heaven, that all Cuckolds should go thither.—But then there's Leanthe! That sticks. I love her, witness, Hea∣ven, I love her to that degree.—Pshaw, I shall whine presently. I love her as well as any Woman; and what can she expect more? I can't drag a Lover's Chain a hundred Miles by Land and a hun∣dred Leagues by Water.—Fortune has decreed it otherwise.—So lead on, blind Guide, I follow thee; and when the blind lead the blind, no wonder they both fall into—Matrimony.

Going out, meets Leanthe.

Oh my dear auspicious little Mercury! let me kiss thee.—Go tell thy Charming Mistress I obey her Commands.

Exit.

Enter Leanthe.

Lean.

Her Commands! Oh Heavens! I must follow him.

going.

Luc.

Page, Page.

Lean.

Oh my curs'd Fortune! baulk'd again!—Madam.

Luc.

Call my Chaplain; I'm to be married presently.

Lean.

Married so suddenly! To whom, pray Madam?

Luc.

To the Gentleman you met going hence just now.

Lean.

Oh Heavens! your Ladiship is not in earnest, Madam?

Luc.

What, is Matrimony to be made a Jest of? don't be imperti∣nent, Boy; call him instantly.

Lean.

What shall I do?—Oh, Madam, suspend it till the morn∣ing, for Heaven's sake. Mr. Lovewell is in the House; I met him not half an hour ago; and he will certain•••• kill the Gentleman, and per∣haps harm your Ladyship.

Luc:

Lovewell in my house! How came he hither?

Lean.

I know not, Madam, I saw him and talk'd to him; he had his Sword drawn, and he threatned every body. Pray delay it to night, Madam.

Luc.

No, I'm resolv'd; and I'll prevent his discovering us; I'll put on a suit of your Cloaths, and order Pindress to carry her Night Gown to the Gentleman in the Garden, and bid him meet me in the lower Arbor, in the West Corner, and send the Chaplain thither instantly.

Exit.

Lean.

Hold, Fortune, hold; thou hast entirely won; For I am lost. Thus long I have been rack'd On thy tormenting Wheel, and now my Heart-strings break. Discovering who I am, exposes me to shame. Then what on Earth can help me?

Enter Pindress.

Pind.

Oh Lord, Page, what's the matter? Here's old doings, or ra∣ther new doings. Prithee let you and I throw in our Two-pence a piece into this Marriage-Lottery.

Lean.

You'll draw nothing but Blanks, I'll assure you, from me.—But stay, let me consider o'th' bus'ness.

Pin.

No consideration; the bus'ness must be done hand over head.

Lean.

Well, I have one Card to play still; and with you, Pindress.

Takes her hand.

Pin.

You expect tho' that I shou'd turn up Trumps?

Lean.

No, not if I shuffle right.

Aside.

—Well, Pindross, 'tis a Match. Be gone to the lower Arbor at the West Corner of the Gar∣den, and I'll come to thee immediately with the Chaplain. You must not whisper, for we must pass upon the Chaplain for my Lady and the Gentleman.—Haste.

Pin.

Shan't I put on my New Gown first?

Lean.

No, no; you shall have a Green Gown for your Wedding in the Arbor.

Pin.

A Green Gown?—Well, all Flesh is Grass.

Lean.

Make haste, my sponse, fly.

Pin.

And will you come? will you be sure to come?—O my litlte Green Gooseberry, my Teeth waters at ye.—

Exit.

Lean.

Now Chance.—No, thou'rt blind.

Then Love, be thou my Guide, and set me right; Tho' blind, like Chance, you have best Eyes by Night.

Exit.