The atheist, or, The second part of The souldiers fortune acted at the Duke's Theatre / written by Tho. Otway.

THE THIRD ACT. (Book 3)

Beaugard, Courtine, and Daredevil.

Beaug.

IS not this Living now? Who that knew the Sweets of Liberty, the uncontroll'd Delights the Free-man tastes of, Lord of his, own Hours, King of his own Pleasures, just as Nature meant him first;

Courted each Minute by all his Appetites, Which he indulges, like a bounteous Master, That's still supply'd with various full Enjoyments; And no intruding Cares make one Thought bitter.

Dared.

Very well this; this is all but very well.

Court.

Nay, not one Rub, to interrupt the Course Of a long, rolling, gay, and wanton Life. Methinks the Image of it is like a Laune In a rich flow'ry Vale, its Measure long, Beauteous its Prospect, and at the End A shady peaceful Glade; where, when the pleasant Race is over, We glide away, and are at rest for ever.

Beaug.

Who, that knew this, would let himself be a Slave To the vile Customs that the World's debaucht in?

Who'd interrupt his needful Hours of Rest, to rise and yawn in a Shop upon Cornhill? Or, what's as bad, make a sneaking Figure in a Great Man's Chamber, at his Rising in a Morning? Who would play the Rogue, Cheat, Lie, Flatter, Bribe, or Pimp, to raise an Estate for a Blockhead of his own begetting, as he thinks, that shall waste it as scandalously as his Father got it? Or who, Courtine, would marry, to beget such a Blockhead?

Court.

No body but such a Blockhead as my self, Beaugard, that's cer∣tain; but I will, if possible atone for that Sin of mine in the future Course of my Life, and grow as zealous a Libertine as thou wouldst wish thy Friend to be.

Dared.

These are Rogues that pretend to be a Religion now! Well, all that I say is, Honest Atheism for my Money.

Beaug.

No, grant me while I live the easie Being I am at present pos∣sest of; a kind, fair Shee, to cool my Blood, and pamper my Imagination withal; an honest Friend or two, like thee, Courtine, that I dare trust my Thoughts to; generous Wine, Health, Liberty, and no Dishonour; and when I ask more of Fortune, let her e'en make a Beggar of me. What sayst thou to this, Daredevil? Is not this coming as near thy Doctrine as a young Sinner can conveniently?

Dared.

Nay, I have very great Hopes of you, that's my Comfort.

Court.

But why did we part with the Women so soon?

Beaug.

Oh, Courtine, Reputation, Reputation! I am a young Spark, and must stand upon my Credit, Friend; the Rogues that cheat all the Week, and go to Church in clean Bands o' Sunday, will advance no necessary Sums upon my Revenues else, when there may be an Occasion: Besides, I have a Father in Town, a grave, sober, serious old Gentleman, call'd a Father.

Dared.

One that will Drink, Rant, Whore, and Game, and is as full of Religion as his Worshipful Son here.

Beaug.

Hah!—

[Enter Father.

Fath.

Very well, very noble, truly, Son! This is the Care you are pleased to take of my Family! Sit up all Night, Drink, Whore, spend your Estate, and give your Soul to the Devil! A very fine—Hickup—This Aquamirabilis and the Old Hock does not agree with my Stomach.

Beaug.

Daredevil, stick to me now, and help me out at a dead lift, or I am lost for ever.—Sir, I hope my being here, has not done you, nor any Friend of yours, an Injury.

Fath.

Injury! No, Sir, 'tis no Injury for you to take your swill in Plen∣ty and Voluptuousness—Hickup—while your poor Father, Sirrah, must be contented to drink paltry Sack, with dry-bon'd, old, batter'd Rogues, and be thankful. You must have your fine, jolly, young Fellow, and bonny, buxom, brawny-bum'd Whores, you Dog, to revel with, and be hang'd to you, must you? Sirrah, you Rogue, I ha' lost all my Money.

Beaug.

I am sorry for it, Sir.

Fath.

Sorry for it, Sir!—Hickup—Is that all?

Dared.

If thou art very poor, old Fellow, take a swinging Dose of Opi∣um, and sleep upon't; 'tis the best thing in the World for old Gentlemen that have no Money. Or wilt thou be good Company? wilt thou sit down and crack a Bottle, old Boy? Hah?

Fath.

Heh! crack a Bottle!

Dared.

Ay, crack a Bottle: What sayst thou to that comfortable Pro∣position?

Court.

Come, Sir, here's your good Health, and to your better Fortune.

Fath.

A very honest Fellow, Iack: These are very honest Fellows, What is your name, Friend?

Dared.

My name is Daredevil, Friend; of the ancient Family of the Daredevils in the North, that have not had a Church in their Parish, Chap∣lain in their House, Prayers Publick or Private, or Graces at Meals, since the Conquest.

Fath.

Sir, I have heard much of your Family; it is a very ancient Ho∣nourable Family: and I am glad to find my Son has made choice of such Noble Acquaintance.—Sir, my Service to you.—I protest, a Cup of pretty Clarret, very pr••tty Clarret.

Court.

And he has top't it off as prettily, I'll say that for him.

Fath.

Iack, I ha' lost all my Money, Iack.

Beaug.

Have you been robb'd, Sir?

Fath.

Robb'd, Sir! No, Mr. Saucy-face, I ha' not been robb'd, Sir: but I ha' been nickt, Sir, and that's as bad, Sir. You are a worthy Person, and I'll make you my Judge.

Dared.

Come along then.

Fath.

The Main was Seven, and the Chance Four; I had just Thirty pound upon it, and my last Stake: The Caster threw, nothing came of it; I chang'd his Dice; he threw again, to as little purpose as before.

Dared.

Very strange, truly.

Fath.

I chang'd his Dice again, he threw again: So he threw, and I chang'd; and I chang'd, and he threw, for at least half an Hour; till at last—Do you mark me?—the Dice powd'ring out of the Box—

Dared.

That's plain.

Fath.

One of 'em trips against the Foot of a Candlestick, and up comes two Deuces, two Deuces, Sir, do you hear? And so I lost my Money. No, Sir, I was not robb'd, Sir; but I lost it upon two Deuces: and that was so hard Fortune, that I'll hold you, or any Man living, Fifty pound to Ten, that he does not throw two Deuces before Seven again.

Dared.

Two Deuces afore Seven! Two Deuces are not to be thrown, Sir, not to be thrown.

Beaug.

I am glad to hear you are so rich, Sir.

Fath.

Rich, quoth 'a! Prethee be quiet, I am not worth a Shilling, Man. But, Sir, here you are a Lord at large, enjoy your Drink and your Drabs, sit up all Night in the fulness of Iniquity, with worthy Esquire Daredevil of the North here, with a Pox to you; whilst I must be kept without a Shilling in my Pocket.—But, Sir,—

Beaug.

Sir, I sent you a Hundred pound yesterday Morning.

Fath.

Well, Sirrah, and I have had ill Luck, and lost it all: What then?

Beaug.

Sir, to avoid Dispute, shall I make one Proposition to you?

Fath.

Heh! With all my Heart. Look you, Iackie-boy, I am not a∣gainst thy taking thy moderate Diversions, so long as I see thou keepest good Company, neither. But—sneak what Ready-money thou hast in∣to my Hand, and send me the rest of t'other Hundred to my Lodging.

Beaug.

Do you think it reasonable, that as often as two Deuces are thrown before Seven, I must advance a Hundred pound to make the Devil's Bones rattle, Sir?

Fath.

Sirrah, you are a Rebel; and I could find in my Heart to cut your Throat. Sir, have you e'er a Father?

Dared.

No, Sir.

Fath.

No, Sir?

Dared.

No, Sir; I broke his Heart long ago, before I came to be at years of Discretion: I hate all Fathers, and always did.

Fath.

Oh Lord! Heark you, Sir, What's that Fellow's Profession?

Court.

Oh, an Atheist, Sir; he believes neither God nor the Devil.

Fath.

'Sbud, I'll brustle up to him: Are you an Atheist, Fellow? hoh?

Dared.

Yes, Sir, I am an Atheist.

Fath.

And what think you will become of you when you die? hoh?

Dared.

I shall be buried six Foot under Ground, to prevent stinking, and there grow rotten.

Fath.

Oh Lord!

Dared.

If I chance to be hang'd, being a lusty Sinewy Fellow, the Cor∣poration of Barber-Chirurgeons, may be, beg me for an Anatomy, to set up in their Hall. I don't take much care of my self while I am living; and when I am dead, whatever happens to me will never trouble me.

Fath.

No more to be said; my Son's in a very hopeful way to be damn'd, that's one Comfort. Impudent Rogue! You keep Company with the Devil's Resident! You converse with Foreign Ministers, and deny your Father a little dirty Money! Fogh, Poltroon!

Beaug.

This is very hard, Sir: But if Ten Guinea's will do you any Service—

Fath.

Ten Guinea's? Let me see; Ten Guinea's are a pretty little pid∣ling Sum, that's the truth on't: But what will it do, Iackie-boy? Serve, may be, to play at Tick-tack in an Afternoon, three Hits up for a Piece, or so; but when will that recover my Hundred agen? Ten Guinea's! Pox o' thy Ten Guinea's.—Well, let me see the Ten Guinea's though,—let me see 'em a little.—Iackie-boy, Iackle, Iack,—You ha' drunk damnable hard to night, you rogue; you are a drunken Dog, I believe—Han'•• you had a Whore too, Iackie?—eee—You'll get the Pox, Sir∣rah, and then—But if thou dost, I know a very able Fellow, an old Ac∣quaintance of mine—Ten Guinea's, Iackie!

Beaug.

There they are, Sir; and long may they last you.

Fath.

Make 'em Twenty, Iackie-rogue;—you Plump-cheekt, Merry∣ey'd Rogue, make 'em Twenty,—Make 'em Fifteen then,—Iackie-boy, Iackie, Iack,—Do faith.

Beaug.

Upon my Duty, you have stript me, Sir.

Fath.

Then do you hear, Friend, you Atheist, that are so free of your Soul? let us see if you dare venture a litte of your Money now—Come.

[Draws out a Box and Dice.

Seven's the Main: I'll hold you Ten pounds to Two, two Deuces does not come before Seven.

Beaug.

At him, Daredevil; Beggar him once more, and then we shall be rid of him.

Dared.

Done, Sir, done; down with your Money.

Fath.

Here, you Blasphemous Dog.—Dost thou love Hazard?

Dared.

Dearly, from the bottom of my Heart, Sir.

Fath.

I love thee the better for't: Come along.—Seven.—

Dared.

Right.

Fath.

Seven.

[Throws two Deuces.

Dared.

Two Deuces!—You ha' lost, Sir.

Fath.

Dam' me, Sir, lay your Hand upon my Money!

Dared.

Dam' me, Sir, 'tis my Money; I won it fairly.

Beaug.

Now, Courtine, now—

Court.

Now look to't, Atheist.

Fath.

Son of a Whore, you lie. Thus to my Hat I sweep the yellow Scoundrels, and draw my Sword in witness th'are my own.

Dared.

Nay then I'll—

Court.

Hold, Sirs, no drawing Swords, no Quarrelling.

Dared.

I am glad on't, with all my Heart; for though I am not much afraid of the Devil, I hate a drawn Sword mortally.

Beaug.

Good Sir—

Fath.

Stand off.—Dogs, Atheists win my Money!—Rascal,—Good morrow.

Beaug.

Till next time two Deuces come before Seven, and then I am sure to see or hear from you again infallibly.

Court.

How dost thou intend to dispose of this wild, extravagant, old Father of thine, Beaugard?

Beaug.

I hope to find him run so far in Debt within this Fortnight, that to avoid the Calamity, he shall be forced to compound with me for his Free∣dom, and be contented with a comfortable Annuity in the Country; that's all my hopes of him.

Court.

Which he'll sell in one Quarter of a Year, and return to old London again, for t'other Game at Hazard.

Beaug.

No, like a wise Guardian, I'll take care of the contrary, lay it too far out of his reach, and tie it too fast for him. Why how now, Daredevil? What in the dumps? 'Tis an unruly old Gentleman, but yet he has some Religion in him, Daredevil.

Dared.

Yes, Pox on him, to cheat me of my Money. 'Tis well he was your Father, Sir.

Court.

Why?

Dared.

Had he been my own, by these Hilts I would have saw'd his old Windpipe asunder upon the Spot. Rob me of my Right!

Court.

Does he love Fighting so well then? I thought most of your Atheists had not much car'd for that impertinent Exercise.

Dared.

'Tis a little impertinent, that I'll grant you, for honest Fellows to fall out, squabble, and cut one anothers Throats, to spoil good Com∣pany: But when my Honour's injur'd—

Beaug.

Then, I know, thou art implacable. But for a foolish trifling Sum of Money—

Dared.

Trash, trash, Dunghil, and Filthiness! I give it away to my Wenches and my Servants; we part with it to every Body, upon all Occa∣sions. He that values Money, deserves never to have the Benefit of it.

Beaug.

A very noble Fragment of Philosophy. But, Courtine, the Morning is new risen again, and I have receiv'd Intelligence this Night, by a certain Minister I keep for such Offices, where my poor distressed Widow is held in Durance: If thou thinkest there may be any Hopes for thee upon the Coast I am bound for, let us embarque together, and good Luck attend us.

Court.

No, I have other Projects o' foot: Marriage has crackt my Cre∣dit so, that no body that knows my Condition cares to deal with me: Therefore I am resolv'd to set out for New Discoveries, and try how •• can thrive where my Name's a Stranger.

Beaug.

What, this Morning!

Court.

This very Morning: Fortified with Burdeaux, as I am, will I issue forth; and let all stragling Wives, Widows, and Virgins have a care of their Cargo's.

Beaug.

Nobly resolv'd, and good Fortune guide thee. Thou, Dare∣devil, wilt not part with me; thou art more a Friend than to leave thy Disciple, when there is good substantial Sinning like to go forward. May be we may do a Murder before we part; something that is very wicked we'll not fail of.

Dared.

With all my Heart; let us fire a House or two, poison a Con∣stable and all his Watch, ravish six Cinder-women, and kill a Beadle.

Beaug.

Shall we do all this?

Dared.

Do't! I'll do't my self.

Beaug.

Thou art the very Spirit of Iniquity.

[Enter Footman.

Footm.

Sir, Captain Beaugard.

Beaug.

With me, Friend?

Footm.

Sir, there is a Masqu'd Lady, in a Chair, at the Corner of the Street, desires a Word with you instantly.

Beaug.

Tell her, I'm her Vassal, and will wait on her this Moment. Courtine, good morrow.

Court.

Gone, already?

Beaug.

Trading comes in, Friend, and I must mind my Calling, that's all. Allons, Daredevil.

Dared.

Friend, farewell to thee; if either of us are run through the Lungs, or shot in the Head, before we meet again, let us hear from one another out of the Lower World, how matters go there, and what En∣tertainment they give us.

Court.

You shall find me a very civil Correspondent, Sir.

Dared.

Farewell.

Court.

The same good Wish to you, Sir. Now will I out into the mid∣dle of the Street, play at Blind-mans-buff by my self, turn three times round, and catch who I can.

Scene changes to the Street. Enter Beaugard and Daredevil.

Beaug.

This should be the Place, and yet I see no Chair.

Dared.

Then let us fall to Mischief.

Beaug.

Prethee a little Patience, tho it be a Vertue, dear Temptation.

Enter another Footman.

Footm.

Sir, is your name Captain Beaugard?

Beaug.

Yes, my dear Mercury, I am the happy Man.

Footm.

Then, Sir, this Letter is for you.

Beaug.

Stay till I read it, Friend.

Footm.

Sir, it requires no Answer.

Beaug.

What Jilts Trick now!—Sir,—to meet us with your Swords in your Hands this Morning, behind the Corner House of—By my Stars, a Challenge from the termagant Sparks that fell upon us last Night. Why, what a deal of Love and Honour have I upon my Hands now? Daredevil, thou canst fight?

Dared.

Why, is there any occasion?

Beaug.

Only a Challenge, Daredevil, that's all: See, there's a Breakfast for thee, if thou hast any Stomach to't.

Dared.

Idle Rogues, Rascals, Hectors! Never mind 'em; hang 'em, these are some hungry Varlets that want Dinners; let us break the next Windows, and never think on't.

Enter six Ruffians.

1 Ruff.

These are our Quarry; be sure we seise 'em both. Is the Coach ready?

2 Ruff.

At the next Corner.

1 Ruff.

Fall on then. Sir, you are our Prisoner.

Beaug.

Villains! Rogues! Thieves! Murder! Thieves! Rascals, you'll not murder me?

1 Ruff.

Nay, Sir, no noise, no strugling, as you tender your Safety.

Beaug.

Daredevil, Dog, Coward, draw thy Sword and rescue me.

Dared.

I am terrified, amaz'd; some Judgment for my Sins is fallen up∣on me; alas, I am in Bonds too! Have mercy on my Soul, and don't slay me, Gentlemen.

Beaug.

Damnation! Blinded! Rascals, Villains, Ruffians! Murder!

Dared.

Oh Daredevil, Daredevil, what will become of thee!

Enter Theodore and Gratian.

Theod.

This Generosity makes good thy Character, That thou art the bravest Man, and truest Friend. How shall I deserve this from thee?

Grat.

I should be unjust, both to my self, and the dear Mem'ry of thy Noble Brother, whose Friendship was so dear to me, should my true Sword be idle in thy Cause. Besides, the Love which I profess to Porcia, tells me a Rival must not tamely carry her.

Theod.

She is thy Right: My dying Brother, her soon-forgotten Husband, But thy remember'd Friend, with his last Breath thus told me; I have a Friend, Gratian, the Man my Heart Has cherisht most; we from our Youth were Rivals For my dear Porica: tell him, if I die, I left her to him, as the dearest Legacy I ••ould bequeath: Bid him be tender of her,

For she'll deserve it from him.—Would she did.

Grat.

Heav'n knows, it is my Curse, spite of her Scorn, to love her even to Madness; nor shall this Man of War, this French-bred Hero, win her with nothing but his Cap and Feather: I wonder he's not come yet.

Theod.

I have heard the Man is Gallant; but in honesty, As thou art my Friend, I wish thou wouldst hear good Counsel▪

Grat.

Thine must be Noble.

Theod.

I'd have thee think no more of this proud Woman.

Grat.

I wish 'twere possible.

Theod.

Their Sex is one gross Cheat; their only Study How to deceive, betray, and ruine Man: They have it by Tradition from their Mothers, Which they improve each day, and grow more exquisite. Their Painting, Patching, all their Chamber-arts, And Publick Affectations, are but Tricks To draw fond Men into that Snare, their Love.

Grat.

Would this could cure mine.

Theod.

When w'are caught fast, 'tis then they shew their Natures, Grow haughty, proud, to vex the Wretch th'ave conquer'd; Tho the same Hour they glance abroad for new ones. Let but a Woman know y'are once her Slave, Give her once Testimony that you love her, She'll always be thy Torment, Jilt, design, And practice Ends upon thy honest Nature, So strong is their Antipathy to Truth.

Grat.

But let a Fool—

Theod.

Oh give 'em but a Fool, A senseless, noise, gay, bold, bristling Blockhead, A Rascal with a Feather, and Cravat-string, No Brains in's Head; a vain, pert, empty Rogue, That can prune, dance, lisp, or lie very much, Th'are lost for ever: They'll give all they have To Fools, or for 'em.—

Grat.

But, my Friend, this granted, Grant Porica this, and more, as she's the Relict Of thy dear Brother, and my valu'd Friend, The Injury she brings upon thy Honour Must not be slighted; and that's my Cause now.

Theod.

There thou o'recom'st me: Still our Men of Mettle Delay their Time; the Day grows late; let's walk Down by yon' Wall; may be they have mist the Place: Besides, I fancy Company is coming this way, and we may be prevented. Methinks I would not lose so fine a Morning, and do nothing.

Grat.

Nor I.

[Exeunt.

Enter Sylvia and Lucrece.

Sylv.

Oh Lucrece, 'twas the Pangs of Jealousie, curst Jealousie, that brought me hither.

Lucr.

Where lodg'd you then last Night?

Sylv.

Here, in this House, my Cousin Porcia's House: I met her late last Night, just as I alighted, harrast with my Journey, and the Cause of it: Had she not took pity of me, Heav'n knows how my Perplexities would have disposed me!

Lucr.

What, in this House?

Sylv.

Here, in this very House.

Lucr.

I'm glad I know it; I'll take such care, it shall not be long a Secret.

Sylv.

The Garden opening thus upon the Fields, invited me to take the Morning-air here; for Sleep's a Guest that stays but little with me. Why sighest thou, Lucrece?

Lucr.

I'm thinking why my Cousin Porcia should chuse this Residence.

Sylv.

'Tis for a Lover, Lucrece; Beaugard courts her, a Friend and lewd Companion of my false Husband's.

Lucr.

I know him but too well.

Sylv.

Why, dost thou love him?

Lucr.

So much, that I can neither eat, drink, nor sleep in peace, for the tormenting Thoughts of him.

Sylv.

By Heav'ns, I pity thee. Oh have a care of Marriage, Lucrece, Marriage; 'twill be thy Bane, and ruine thee for ever. Marriage spoils Faces; How I look with Marriage!

Lucr.

I see no change.

Sylv.

No change! I have not slept six Nights in peace since the curst Day I wedded.

Lucr.

Will then a Husband spoil ones Sleep so sadly?

Sylv.

A Husband's, Lucrece, like his Wedding-Clothes, Worn gay a Week, but then he throws 'em off, And with 'em too the Lover: Then his Days Grow gay abroad, and his Nights dull at home: He lies whole Months by thy poor longing Side Heavy and useless, comes faint and loth to Bed, Turns him about, grunts, snores: and that's a Husband.

Lucr.

Is Courtine such a one?

Sylv.

'Tis pain to tell thee the Life I 〈◊〉〈◊〉 with him.

He's colder to me, than Adamant to Fire; but let him loose amongst my Kitchen-Furniture, my Maids, never was seen so termagant a Towzer: He loves a nasty, foul-fed, fulsom Drab, and scorns the tender Joys my Arms invite him to. To be despis'd at that rate, so dishonour'd, makes me even curse the Chance that made me Woman: Would I had been any Creature else.—See yonder, yonder he comes: Thy Masque, thy Masque, dear Lucrece.

Lucr.

Farewel; I'll away, and leave ye fairly both together.

[Exit. Lucr.

Enter Courtine.

Court.

What, fly thy ground, faint Soldier! How, another! Nay then 'twas nobly done, two to one had been odds else: Had it not pretty one?

Sylv.

Why, who are you, Sir.

Court.

E'en a wandring Knight, that have forsaken my Castle in the Country, and am come up to Town for Preferment truly.

Sylv.

And one would think so proper, lusty, a well-made Fellow as you are should not be long out of Employment.

Court.

Dost thou know me, my Dearest?

Sylv.

No.

Court.

Then I am sure thou canst have no Exception against me.

Sylv.

But suppose I had a mind to a little farther Acquaintance with you; what then, Sir?

Court.

Why, then thou may'st reasonably suppose that I'll make no evil Use of thy good Inclinations; Faith there are very pretty Gardens here∣abouts, let us commit a Trespass for once, break into one of 'em, and ••oll a Camomile-walk together this Morning.

Sylv.

Oh Lord, Sir!

Court.

She's coming already.

Sylv.

If I should let you make advantage of my Weakness now, you would be false afterwards, forsake me, and break my heart.

Court.

Pretty fool! What innocent scruples she makes!

Sylv.

Have you no other Mistress already? have you no Engagements that will return hereafter upon your heart to my prejudice?

Court.

Shall I swear?

Sylv.

But han't you truly?

Court.

If I have, may that blew Mountain over our heads there, fall down and crush me like a pelted Toad.

Sylv.

To shew you then that I desere your Faith—

Court.

What wilt thou shew me?

Sylv.

A Face which I am not asham'd of, though you'l perhaps be scan∣daliz'd when you see it.

Court.

The Devil take me if I am though, so it prove not very horri∣ble indeed.

Sylv.

What think you then, Sir, is it such a one as you lookt for?

Court.

My own Wife!

Sylv.

Yes, thy unhappy Wife, Thou false, deceitful, perjur'd, shamles Wretch: Have I deserv'd this from thee?

Court.

Pox confound her.—

[Takes out a Book and falls to reading.

Sylv.

Is this the recompense of all my love? Did I bestow my Fortune on thy▪ Wants, Humble my self to be thy Dove-like Wife? And is this all I'm worth?—

Court.

Wealth is a great

Provocative to am'rous heat

[Read••.

For what is worth in any thing, But so much Money as 'twill bring? Hudibras, Part the 2d, Canto the First.

Sylv.

Patience direct me! have I wrought my Nature To utmost sufferance, and most low contentment, Set my poor heart to cares! have I been blest With Children by thee, to be left with scorn, Cast off, neglected, and abandon'd vilely? Speak, is not this hard usage?—

Court.

Umph!

Sylv.

Umph! what's Umph!

Court.

Umph, that's I, Child; Umph is I, I, I, my Dear.

Sylv.

Death! death and torments! Cut my wretched Throat, don't treat me thus: By Heaven I'le bear't no longer.

Court.

No more.

Sylv.

I have done, Sir.

Court.

What do you at London!

Sylv.

Is it a fault to follow what I'm fond of!

Court.

Can't I enjoy my pleasures, take my freedoms, but you must come, and spoil the high season'd dish with your insipid whining sense∣less Jealousie?

Sylv.

Prethee forgive me.—

Court.

Where did you lodge last Night?

Sylv.

Here with a Kinswoman, May be you know her not, her name is Porcia.

Court.

Death! Beaugard's Widow! now I am finely fitted. What at this House?

Sylv.

This very House, that Door Opens into the Garden, let us walk there, Won't you go with me Courtine?

Court.

No.

Sylv.

Prethee do, Love. Don't be thus cruel to me.

Court.

Then promise one thing, And may be my good nature shall be wrought upon.

Sylv.

I'le grant thee any thing; speak, try m'Obedience.

Court.

then promise me, that during our abode In this sweet Town, which I love very dearly, That let me ramble, steer what course I will, Keep what late hours, and as I please employ 'em, That you'l be still, an humble, civil Doxy, And pry into no secret to disturb me.

Sylv.

Well, 'tis all granted.

Court.

On then, I'le be dutiful.

Sylv.

Enter you first.

Court.

No.—

Sylv.

Oh, then you'l forsake me; You seek but opportunity again to leave me.

Court.

Well, since I am trapt thus, Like a poor Beast that wanted better pasture, There is no Replevin, and I must to Pound.

[Exe••••••.

Enter Theod. Grat. and Lucr.

Theod.

What in this House?

Lucr.

Here in this very House, My Cousin Sylvia, Courtine's Jealous Wife, Coming to Town, Lodg'd with her here last Night.

Theod.

No more, I guess the cause w'are disappointed. Do thou go Gratian, Muster what Friends 'tis possible; I'le try my Interest too; we'll storm your Fortress, Enchanted Lady, though your Gyant guard it.

Scene changes to the inside of a very fair House, adorned with rich Furni∣ture and Lights.

Enter Ruff. with Beaug. and Dared.

Beaug.

Dogs! Rascals! Villains! how do you intend to deal with us?

1. Ruff.

Much better than your language has deserv'd, Sir.

[They unblind 'em.

Beaug.

Sirs for this noble usage, had I a Sword or Pistol about me, I would reward ye most amply.

[They all bow and withdraw.

A Plague of your Civility! where the Devil are we?

Dared.

Where are we quotha! why, we are in a Palace Man, prithee look about thee a little.

Beaug.

By Heav'n here's a Paradise; hark Daredevil! Musick too!

Dared.

I'le be hang'd if 'tis not a bawdy Dancing-School, some better Whores than ordinary designing a private Ballum rancum, have pitcht up∣on our two proper persons for the bus'ness; we are like to have a swing∣ing time on't, Beaugard.

Beaug.

A plague o' your Cowardise! you were whining and praying just now, and be hang'd to you.

Dared.

I praying! prithee be quiet Man, I never pray'd in my life, nor ever will pray: Praying quotha! that's a merry jest with all my Heart.

Beaug.

Impudent Poltroon! he said two dozen of Pater-Nosters with∣in this half hour, and every jolt the Coach gave was afraid the Devil would have torn him to pieces.

Dared.

Odd I like this contrivance very well: Look, Beaugard, what comes yonder? 'sheart two Devils in Petticoats, how my Guts shrink to∣gether!

[Enter two Black Women.

Beaug.

Heyday! Lady Blackamores! nay then we are certainly enchant∣ed. What are you two, Maids of Honour to the Queen of Pomonkey? and i•• this one of her Palaces? Not a Word!—

Dared.

How I long now to be familiar with one of those Sooty-fac'd Harlots! I would beget a chopping Black Son of a Whore upon her, in defiance to the Prince of Darkness.

Enter a Dwarf.

Beaug.

What another too of the same Complexion? this must be her Majesties Page.

Dared.

A Pimp, I'le warrant him; he's so very little, pert, and dapper, the Rogue looks as if he could im••••••ate himself through a Key-hole.

Dwarf.

Welcome thou best-lov'd Man of the fair World.

Beaug.

Well, Sir, and what's the Service you have in order to Com∣mand me?

Dwarf.

My Orders are to lead you to repose in a Rich Bed prepared for Rest and Love.

Dared.

I said it was a Pimp, what a smooth-tongu'd little Rascal 'tis?

Beaug.

A very pretty sort of an Amusement this: But prithee young Domine, why to Bed? 'tis but now Day, and the Sun newly risen; for I have not been a Bed all Night, my little Monster; I know how the time goes, Child.

Dwarf.

Such are the Orders of the Power I serve. For you are come a long unmeasurable Journey.

Dared.

Hah!

Dwaf.

Drawn by wing'd Horses through the untract Air.

Beaug.

A Pox upon thee for a little black lying well-instructed Rascal, but since it is the Custom of the place, and my last Night Fatigue requires it, I'le accept of the offer, and dispense with an hour or two of sleep to fit me for better exercise when I wake again.

[Sits down in the Chair to be undrest.

Dared.

Drawn by Wing'd Horses through the Air, said he! if this should be true now, what would become of us! Methought indeed the Coach whew'd it away a little faster than ordinary.

[While Beaug. is undressing the two Black Women dance.

Beaug.

A very notable Entertainment truly, and your little Black La∣dy-ships have tript it most featly.—

[The Wo. advance towards him.

What, and must you take charge of me now!—With all my heart. Dare∣devil farewel to thee; but that I am in hopes of a better, I'de invite thee for a Bedfellow.

[Women lead in Beaug.

Dared.

Bedfellow, quotha! would I were a Bed with any Bedfellow that I was sure had but flesh and bones about him.

Dwarf.

Come, Sir, you are my charge.

Dared.

I hope your little Impship will be civil to me: pray, Sir, what place is this?

Dwarf.

A Chrystal Castle built by Enchantment in a Land unknown to any but the fair one that Commands it: The Spirits of the Air keep guard about it, and all obey her Charms.

Dared.

Oh Lord! and what Religion is the Lady off?

Dwarf.

That's a secret, you'l know more hereafter.

Dared.

Lead on then: Now in the lower World whence I come lately, were this but known,

How would the fate in Ballad be lamented, Of Daredevil ••••e Atheist that's Enchanted.

End of the Third Act.