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

ACT IV. (Book 4)

Enter Gratian and Theodoret.

Grat.

THese are your Men of Honour now: I never knew a blustering, roaring, swashing Spark, that, at the bottom, was good for any thing.

Theod.

Your faux Braves always put on a shew of more Courage than or∣dinary; as your beggarly half-Gentlemen always wear tawdry finer Cloaths than their Fortune will afford 'em.

Grat.

But, to lye conceal'd in private in the House with her!

Theod.

Dam' her, she's a Prostitute; has given her self already to his Arms.

Grat.

Yet, I'll warrant you, she has an excuse for that too, if it be so; as, Alas! you know, Woman is but a weak Vessel.

Theod.

A Pox o' the weakness of her Vessel! Dam' her! Would my Sword were in her Throat! But will our Friends be ready?

Grat.

Most punctually. It was an odd old Fellow, that, which we met with. Was he certainly Beaugard's Father?

Theod.

No body can swear that, for his Mother was a Woman; but that merry conceited old Gentleman has the honour of it: he has the Title, but whose was the Property, that I dare not determine.

Grat.

I hope he'll be as good as his word with us.

Theod.

It will not be amiss if it prove so. See, here he comes too.

Enter Father and Fourbine.

Fath.

You lie, you Dog; you Scanderbeg Varlet, you lie. Do not I know that he sate up all Night with a Consort of Whore-masters and Harlots; and have you the impudence to tell me he is not at home? Do not I know, you Vil∣lain, that, after a Debauch, he will out-snore a Fleet-street-Cons••able and all his Watch, for six hours; and dare you tell me, he is not at home, you Ca∣terpillar?

Fourb.

Upon the word of a true Valet de Chambre, Sir, I deal sincer••ly and honestly with you.

Fath.

No more to be said: But, Sirrah, do you take notice in his behalf, and tell him, he shall pay for this; pay for it, do you hear you Mongril? Fob me off with ten stinking Guinnies, when I had lost a hundred! Fiends and Furies, I'll not bear it. Good morrow my little Thunder-bolts! What say you, my tiny brace of Blunderbusses? can I be serviceable? shall we about the business while it is practicable? hah?—

Theod.

Have you considered of it throughly, Sir?

Fath.

Trouble thy head no farther; I'll do't, my Darling.

Theod.

Have you considered, Sir, that she is your Son's Mistress?

Fath.

So much the better still; I'll swinge her the stoutlier, for allenating his Affections from his natural Father.

Grat.

But suppose you should meet him too there in her defence, Sir?

Fath.

Still better and better, and better for that very reason; for I would swinge him too with much fatherly Discipline, and teach him the duty which a Son, with a great deal of Money, ows an honest old Daddy, that has none.

Theod.

Very piously resolved, this; that's the truth on't. But, Sir, I would have you satisfied, into the bargain, that this will be no trifling matter. No Boys Play, old Tilbury.

Fath.

Boys Play, Sir; Sir, I can sight, Sir: though I am an old fellow, I have a Fox by my side here, that will snarl upon occasion. Boys Play! I don't understand your Boys Play, Sir—

Theod.

I would not have you take my plainness ill, Sir: I only hinted it, to deal with you according to an old fashion of sincerity which I profess, Sir. I hope you are not offended at it.

Fath.

Then, to rectifie all mistakes, let us fairly have a Breakfast, hoc Mo∣mento. I have a sort of gnawing Courage, that when it is provok'd, always gives me a Stomack to a savoury Bit, and a cheerful Bottle. I hate to be run through the Guts, with nothing in 'em to keep the Wind out.

Grat.

Very well propos'd, I think; for we have more Fiends to meet us at a Tavern hard by here, where we Intend to wish our Enterprise well in a bonny Bottle or two, and then about it as cheerfully as we can.

Fath.

Very well said, that: This is a pretty fellow, I'll warrant him. Now, if my Rebel be run through the Midriff in this business, I am the next Heir at Law, and the two thousand Pounds a year is my own, declaro. Come along my little Spit-••res.

Nous allons. Brave strippons. Sans scavoir on Nous allons.

Six Bumpers in a hand to him that drills the first Whore-Master through the small Guts.

Grat.

We'll pledge it heartily, Sir.

Fath.

You are both my honest Boys, my best Children: march along then, bravely and boldly.—I must borrow Money of these Fellows before I part with 'em. Nous allons, Brave strippons,

[Exeunt.

Enter Courtine.

Court.

Oh the unconscionable Importunity of an unsavoury, plegmatick, cold, insipid Wife! By this good day, she has kiss'd me till I am downright sick; I have had so much of her, that I shall have no stomach to the Sex again this fortnight.

Enter Sylvia.

Sylv.

My Dearest, pray ••y Dearest, don't thus leave me: by this kind kiss I beg is.

Court.

Oh, the Devil!

Sylv.

Look kindly on me; speak to me.—

Court.

Plague intollerable!—

Sylv.

Indeed, my Dear, I love you with such fondness! Pray speak.

Court.

I cannot.

Sylv.

Why? an't you well?

Court.

Oh, there's a sudden faintness comes o'er my Spirits! Oh, I'm ve∣ry sick! Leave me, if thou lov'st me, stand off, and give me Air; I die else. Ohh!—

Sylv.

I'll kiss thee then to life again.

Court.

Stand off, I say; I'll not be stifled! Murder! Help! Murder! Help!

Sylv.

Ill natur'd Tyrant!

Court.

Good natur'd Devils! Kiss, i'th' Devil's name!—

Sylv.

Come near me, Husband.

Court.

Come not near me, Wife. How am I tortur'd!—

Sylv.

You must be kind; indeed, my dear, you must.

Court.

Indeed, my Dear, by your good leave, I sha' not,—Damnation!

Sylv.

You long to be rid of me again.

Court.

That I do most mightily; but how to bring it about, if I know, I am a Rascal. Oh! Oh!

Sylv.

What's the matter, Dearee?

Court.

Oh, I am sick again of the sudden! Give me the Chair there: Oh! my Heart beats, and my Head swims! Oh! oh!

Sylv.

Alas, I fear y'are very sick indeed! if my poor Lovee should die, what would become of me!

Court.

A Plague o' your whining! Would I were well out of the House once!

Sylv.

Shall I fetch thee some Cordial, my dearest Love, my Joy? Speak to me; shall I?—

Court.

Ay if thou wilt, my Jewel. Jewel quotha!—what a plagu's this: Hush, is she gone?—Now for a convenient Balcone to venture the breaking of a Neck at.—

Enter Page.

Page.

Sir, Sir, a word with you.

Court.

With me, Sweetheart; thy business?

Page.

A Lady, Sir, that dog'd you hither this Morning—

Court.

A Lady!—

Page.

Yes, a Lady, Sir.

Court.

Hist: Get you in, you little Monkey; skip, sculk, or you'll spoil all else.—Here's the blessed comfort of a Wife again now:—Oh, oh!—

Enter Sylvia.

Sylv.

How is't, my Blessing? Here, take this: Heaven guard thee.!

Court.

Fr••m thy confo••nded troubl••some Company, if it be possible.

[Drinks.

Sylv.

How is't, my Dearee?

Court.

If I had a little more on't, Dearee.

Sylv.

I'll see what's left, my Joy.

Court.

Do, prithee do, my Joy then. Joy in the Devil's name.

[Ex. Sylv.

Hist, Sirrah Page, come hither.

Enter Page.

Page.

Is your Lady gone, Sir?

Court.

Yes: But what News of the other Lady, my trusty Mercury?

Page.

She's now below, Sir; and desires to see you.

Court.

Is she young? handsom?

Page.

I can't tell that, Sir; but she's rare and fine.

Court.

Are her Cloaths rich?

Page.

Oh Sir, all Gold and Silver; with a deep Point Thingum Thangum over her Shoulders: and then she smells as sweet as my Ladies Dressing-Box.

Court.

Fly little Spright, and tell her, I'm impatient: tell her, I'll wait on her within a moment: tell her—

Page.

But Sir—

Court.

Be gone, be gone, you Knave, or you'll be caught else. Oh!

Enter Sylvia.

Sylv.

Here's all that's left, my Heart.

Court.

I am sorry for it, it is very comfortable. [Drinks.] Oh, oh, oh!

Sylv.

What ails my Life?

Court.

Oh, I have a horrid ••••emor upon my Heart! 'tis the old Palpitation I us'd to be troubl'd with, return'd again. Oh, if I were but—

Sylv.

Where, Love?

Court.

Oh! but in a condition to go abroad, there is an able Fellow of my Acquaintance, that always us'd to relieve me in this extremity.

Sylv.

Where does he live? I'll take a Coach my self, and go to him.

Court.

The Devil take me if I know.—Oh! 'tis a vast way off.—Oh! now it kills me again.

Sylv.

I shall not think it so, when it is my duty.

Court.

That's but too kind, my Sweetest; though, if I had but one Bottle of his Elixir.—

Sylv.

How is it call'd?

Court.

Specimen Vitae.

Sylv.

Specimen Vitae?

Court.

Ay, Specimen Vitae: 'tis a damn'd hard name, but it is very good.

Sylv.

Where is't he lives then? Prithee let me go thither.

Court.

Oh, 'tis a horrid way off! Besides, it would trouble me now, in this condition, to be so long without thee.

Sylv.

Prithee let me go.

Court.

Why, 'tis as far as Grubb-street Child, as Grubb-street?

Sylv.

I'll be back again instantly.

Court.

I had rather, indeed, thou shouldst go thy self, than send a Messenger, because the business will be done more carefully.

Sylv.

How's the Direction then?

Court.

In Grubb-street Child, at the Sign of the Sun and Phaenix, I think it is, there lives a Chymist; ask for him, and in my name desire a Bottle of his Specimen Vitae. Oh!

Sylv.

Specimen Vitae?

Court.

Ay, Specimen Vitae—I'll try in the mean time if I can walk about the Room, and divert the terrour of my Fits.

Sylv.

Heavens bless my dearest Dearee.

Court.

Thank you, my only Joy.—Would in the Devil's Name she were gone once, and had her Guts full of that Quack's Specimen Vitae.

Sylv.

You'll be careful of your self, Child?

Court.

As careful as I can, Child.

Sylv.

Gud b'w'y Courtee.

Court.

B'w'y my Sylvee.—Oh, oh!

[Exit Sylvia, Enter Page.

Is she gone?

Page.

Yes, Sir.

Court.

Where's the Lady?

Page.

Here; just entring up the back Stairs.

[Lady appears at the Door.

Court.

Madam, this Honour done your worthless Servant—

Enter Sylvia.

Sylv.

Oh, my dear Heart, I had forgot my Wages. Pray Courtee, kiss me before I go.

Court.

Confound her, Come again! Oh, my Love! I have made hard shift to crawl to the Door here.

Sylv.

Who's that behind you?

Court.

Nothing but a Page, come to know if I wanted any thing. A Plague of her Hawks eyes!—

Sylv.

Gud b'w'y my dearest Love.

Court.

Gud b'w'y my Joy.

Sylv.

Nay, give me another. B'w'y Courtee.

Court.

B'w'y Sylvee.—So, is she gone again?—The Devil take me, if thou interruptest me any more.

[Locks the Door after her.

Enter Lady.

Lady.

Is that your Lady, Sir?

Court.

Yes; but I hope you'll not think the worse of me, pretty One, for keeping a Wife Company now and then, for want of better.

Lady.

Can you be so kind, Sir, not to forget me? Do you remember me still, Captain?

Court••.

Remember thee, Child! Is it possible for that Face to be ever blotted out of my Memory!—Though, the Devil eat me, if ever I saw it before, to the best of my knowledge.

Lady.

Where is your Lady gone Sir?

Court.

To Grubb-street, Jewel, for some Specimen Vitae.

Lady.

Specimen Vitae, Sir! Oh dear, what's that?

Court.

Oh, come but quietly into the next Room, and I will shew thee what Specimen vitae is presently.

Lady.

You may, perhaps think •• range of this freedom I take with you, Sir.

Court.

Not in the least, Child; it shews thy Generosity.—I love her now, for understanding her business, and coming close to the matter quickly.

Lady.

But, Sir, presuming on your Quondam Favours to me, I am come to beg your Advice in a matter of Law, which I am at present involv'd in: and if you please—

Court.

To retire a little in private?—Oh, thou couldst not have pick'd out such another Man for thy purpose: I am, may be, the best Lawyer in the World for Chamber-practice. And if I do not find out the Merits of thy Cause as soon as—

Lady.

Really, you are so good natur'd—

Court.

Grubb-street and Specimen Vitae, quotha! He that has the Palpitation of the Heart, and an Armful of this won't cure him, let him die upon a Dung-hill, and be buried in a Ditch, I say.—This is the rarest Adventure.

[Exeunt Courtine and the Lady.

The SCENE changes to a Bed-Chamber.

Enter Beaugard in, as Dressing himself.

Beaug.

Heigho! Heigho! Boy, Imp, where art thou?

Dw••rf.

Here: Your pleasure? What's your pleasure, Sir?

Beaug.

What is't o'Clock, Boy?

Dwarf.

Sir, in your World, by Computation, I guess it may be Afternoon.

Beaug.

A very pretty little Rascal, this; and a very extraordinary way of Proceeding, I am treated withal here: I have been abed, 'tis true, but the De∣vil a wink of sound Rest came near my Senses all the while; but broken Slum∣bers, Dreams, Starts, and sprawling from one side to the other, in hopes the fair Unknown that keeps this Castle might have been so good natur'd to have given a Stranger a Visi••. This can be no less than some Romantick design of the little Fairy, that threatned she would cheat the Widow of me:—Now will I, for once, if she does attempt me, put on that monstrous Vertue, called Self∣denial, and be damnably constant.—What, Musick again! This is a merry Region, I'll say that for it, where ever it be, Boy!

Dwarf.

Did you call, Sir?

Beaug.

My Cloaths, Monster; my Vestments: I hate a Dis-habiliee mortal∣ly: I long to be rigg'd, that I may be fit for Action, if Occasion should pre∣sent it self.

[Dwarf dresses him.

A SONG.

1.

Welcom Mortal to this place, Where smiling Fate did send thee: Snatch thy happy Minutes, as they pass; Who knows how few attend thee!

2.

Floods of Ioy about thee roul, And flow in endless measure. Dip thy Wishes deep, and fill thy Soul With Draughts of every Pleasure.

3.

Feast thy Heart with Love's Desire, Thy Eyes with Beauties Charms: With Imaginations fan the Fire. Then stifle it in thy Arms.

4.

For, since Life's a slippery Guest, Whose Flight can't be prevented; Treat it, whilst it stays here, with the best, And then 'twill go contented.

Come you that attend on our Goddesses Will, And sprinkle the Ground With Perfumes around; Shew him your Duty, and shew us your Skill.

Enter four Black Women, that dance to the same Measure of the Song, and sprinkle Sweets.

Circle him with Charms, And raise in his Heart Such Alarms, As Cupid ne'er wrought by the Pow'r of his Dart.

They dance round him.

Fill all his Veins with a tender desire, And then shew a Beauty to set 'em a fire; Till kind panting Breasts to his Wound she apply, Then on those white Pillows of Love let him die.

[The Dance ends.

Beaug.

Faith, and with all my heart; for I am weary of the lingring Dis∣ease, and long to taste my Mortality most mightily. Hah! A Banquet too, usher'd in by a couple of Cupids! Pretty innocent Contri∣vance! Well, here's no fear of starving, that's one comfort.

Two Cupids run in a Table furnish'd.

Now, my dear Musicians, would ye be but as good as your word, and shew me the Beauty you have so prepared me for!—But then, my Widow! my Dear, Generous, Noble-hearted Widow •• She that loves Liberty as I do. She that defies Matrimony as I do too. Shall I turn Recreant, and be false to her? Ah Dardevill, Dardevill! How I want thee to help me out in this Case of Conscience a little!

Enter Dardevill.

Dard.

Beaugard, Where art thou?

Beaug.

Ah dear Damnation! I was just now heartily wishing for thee.

Dard.

Such News! Such Tidings! Such a Discovery!

Beaug.

Hah! What's the matter, Man?—

Dard.

Only six and fifty Virgins apiece for us, that's all; pretty little blush∣ing opening Buds, you Rogue, that never had so much as a blast of Masculine Breath upon them yet.—What's here? A Banquet ready•• Nay, then I am satisfied. Never were Heroes so inchanted as we are.

Beaug.

But where are the Virgins, Dardevill? the Virgins!

Dard.

There's only one of'em, Child •• only one;—but such a one, my Souldier.—

Beaug.

Is there but one then?

Dard.

That's no matter, Man; I'll be contented till thou hast done with her: I hate a new Conveniency that was never practised upon; 'tis like a new Shooe that was never worn, wrings and hurts ones Foot basely and scurvily. I love my ease, I.

Beaug.

But is she very Lovely?

Dard.

Such a Swinger, you Dog! she'll make thy Heart bound like a Ten∣nis Ball, at the sight of her: with a Majestick stately Shape and Motion.

Beaug.

Well.

Dard.

A Lovely, Angelical, Commanding Face.

Beaug.

By Heavens.

Dard.

With two Triumphant, Rolling, Murdering Eyes, that swear at you ev'ry time you look upon her.

Beaug.

Stand off, stand off, I say; she's mine this Minute. But then again, my Widow!—Hah!—Mask'd too; when the Devil shall I see a Woman with her own natural Face again? Madam—

Lady.

Be pleas'd, Sir, to repose your self a little; there is a small Account, Sir, to be adjusted betwixt you and I. Where are my Servants? Who is it waits there?

[Several Men Vizarded, and Arm'd, appear at the Doors.

Beaug.

What the Devil can be the meaning of this now? I am not to be murdered, I hope, after all this Ceremony and Preparation.

Dard.

Murder'd, in the Devil's Name? Here is great fear of being mur∣der'd, truly.

Lady.

Come Sir, sit down Sir.

Beaug.

Madam, I'll obey you.

Lady.

I doubt not, Sir, but, since your coming hither, You are much surpris'd, and wonder at your Treatment.

Dard.

So, now the Fardle's opened, we shall see what is in it.

Beaug.

Madam, 'thas been so very highly generous.

Lady.

That you are prepar'd with Complements to pay me for it. But, Sir, such Coyn's Adulterate and Base: I must have honest Dealing from your Heart.

Dard.

Swear to her, swear to her a little, Man; pour out a Bushel of Oaths upon her instantly: Swear, swear, if thou wilt do any good upon her.

Lady.

I know my Rival.

Beaug.

Ay, 'tis so, just so, just as I thought, my poor widow will run a damnable hazard of losing this sweet Person of mine, if I do not take abun∣dance of care in the business. Here are Rogues on each hand, with Blunder∣busses too: I shall be ravish'd.

Lady.

She, by her Arts, And the good fortune to have first attempted it, I know, 's possess'd already of your Heart. But know too, I'm a Woman loath Refusal. Scornful Refusal—

Dard.

Swear to her, I tell thee: That ever a Fellow should lose all this time for an insignificant Oath or two!

Lady.

Or, if my Fortune, Which is not despicable, prove too weak An Argument to tell you I deserve you; Yet I have this to boast, I ne'er conceal'd my self, Either for Shame or Ends; but rather chose To run the Risque of being deny'd your Love, Than win it by base Artifice and Practices. What think you, Sir?—

Beaug.

Hah!— That, Madam, I'm most miserable, Unless—

Lady.

Your Widow Porcia, Sir, your Widow.

Beaug.

Madam, I must confess—

Lady.

Well:

Beaug.

That I love her, and will for ever.—

Lady.

Death! Do you confess it too? See you not here yourself within my power, And dare you still confess you love that Creature? Thus far I've kept my Word, I've cross'd her Stratagems. You are here my Pris'ner, and by what is past, You ought to think me capable of more.

Dard.

If this Fellow would but swear a little, all this might be rectifi'd. Madam, to my own knowledge—

Beaug.

Fool, stand off. I'm sensible that you are the loveliest Creature My Eyes e'er gaz'd on; but—

Lady.

But what?—

Beaug.

I'm sure You'ld yourself scorn, nor think me worth your Heart, Could I be faithless, could I be unconstant. Pity me, fair One; yet, methinks this Hand—

Lady.

Should send a Dagger to thy ungrateful Heart. fly Heav'n, I'll never bear it—

Beaug.

Madam!

Dard.

Madam, Could you but throw some favour on your Servant.

Lady.

By all the fury in a Woman's Heart, I'll be reveng'd on his. Make ready, Slaves, To do your Office—

Dard.

Madam—

Beaug.

Look you, Madam, your Ladyship may do your pleasure; you may command half a dozen of Bullets through my Pericranium, if you have a mind to have your Beauty spoke well of by the Criticks of Holborn, that once a Month swarm at their Windows to spy handsom Faces: Upon that conside∣ration you may murder a poor constant Monster if you please, Madam.

Lady.

Still am I scorn'd then.

Beaug.

Would you kill me barbarously? Sure those sweet Eyes could not see such a Sight.

Lady.

No, take your Life, and with't this satisfaction; Porcia scorns you, as much as you do me: And, till thou suest upon thy humble Knees To me for Pity, Porcia shall despise thee.

Beaug.

Madam, I swear!

Lady.

No more.

Beaug.

By all t••ose Beauties.

Lady.

Be gon••, for ever fly this. Ah h!—

[Squeaks.

Enter Courtin.

Court.

Death, Damnation, Devils! How came I hither? Beaugard!

Beaug.

F••iend Courtine! Speak Man: What's the matter?

Court.

Damnation! Jilted, cho••s'd, betrayed!—

Enter Woman.

Wom.

A Midwife! Run for a Midwife, run for some good Woman. Oh Madam, an Accident.

Beaug.

A Midwife!

Lady.

Heavens! a Midwife!

[Exit Lady.

Court.

Yes, Friend, a Midwife. I am sweetly manag'd, I—I thought I had been in private here, in this House, with a civil Person of good Reputati∣on, and it proves a damn'd trappanning Strumpet. Just in the middle of all our good Understanding together, she fetches a great Shreik, and roars out for a Midwife: The Drab is full gone with Bastard, and swears I am the Father of it.

Beaug.

A very great happiness, take my Word for't, Friend; Children bring a great Honour with them, Courtine: It may grow up to be a Comfort to thee in thy old Age, Man.

Dar.

Oh, Your Olive Branches are unspeakable Blessings, the Gift of Hea∣ven. I love to see Posterity go forward, and Families increase, with all my heart.

Court.

Let me be hang'd and quarter'd, Gentlemen, if ever I set Eyes on the Harlot in my life before. My sweet Wife, with a Pox to her brought me hither.

Beaug.

Why, Is thy Wife in London?

Court.

Yes, Hell confound her! she has hunted me full Cry up to Town; s••i••'d upon me this Morning, and brought me hither, where it seems she lay all the last night.

Dard.

Why then, for ought I know, we may be still enchanted.

Beaug.

I am glad to h••ar that, with all my heart. Is she in the House?

Court.

No; I was forced to c••unterfeit sickness, 'till I was ••'••n sick indeed, to get rid of her, upon pretence of going to my Physitian, in the Devil's name, that this confounded Bulker, with her G••••s full of Bastard, and I might con∣sole

together for half an hour; and I am sweetly fitted with a Concubin•• that's the truth on't.

Beaug.

This comes of your Whoring, Courtine; if you had kept me compa∣ny, and liv'd vertuously, none of this had happened to you now. But you must be wandring: No reasonable iniquity will serve your turn.

Enter Lady.

Lady.

Ha, ha, ha! Well, I'll swear, Captain Courtine, you are the happiest Gen∣tleman! Yonder's the finest chopping Boy for you. Why, it will be able to carry a Musquet in your Company within this Fortnight. And then, I am so obli∣ged to you for bringing the Lady to lye in at my House, that if your Wife will do me the honour, I'll take it for a favour to stand for Godmother with her.

Court.

And, Madam, to return your Complement, I wish with all my heart you were pregnant with a Litter of nine such chopping Boys, upon condition that I were bound to be Godfather to the whole Kennel.—Confound your being witty, with a Plague to you.

[Aside.

Beaug.

That's something course though, Friend, to a Lady that's so civil to you.

Enter several Maids of the Family, one with the Child.

1. Maid.

See Ienny, Yon's the Man; that, that's the Father.

2. Maid.

I'll swear it is a proper person.

3. Maid.

Oh Sir, Heavens bless you, you're the happiest Man! Here is my young Master, as like you as if you had bore it your self.

1. Maid.

What a pretty little Nose it has!

2. Maid.

And just its Father's Eyes for all the World.

1. Maid.

It would never grieve a Body to have a Child by such a handsom Gentleman.

Court.

Ye Whores! ye Drabs! ye fulsom, slinking Whores! Clusters of Poxes on ye, and no Hospitals pity ye!—Confound ye, leave me.

Beaug.

Fye upon it, Courtine; fye for shame: give something to the Nurse, Man; that's but civil.

Enter Sylvia.

Sylv.

A Bastard! Death, a Bastard! Under my Nose too! Where's the vile hateful Monster?

Beaug.

Have patience, Lady.—

Sylv.

False, loathsom Traytor.

Court.

Now my Joy's compleated.

Sylv.

Let me come at him, let me go.—

Court.

Hold her fast, Friend, if thou lovest me.

Sylv.

Thou Devil!—Thou treach'rous, faithless, perjur'd Wretch•• Thou Husband! Look in my Face.

Court.

Well.—

Sylv.

Did I e'er deserve this? Degenerate Brute! Thou, only in Falshood, Man.

Thou rampant Goat abroad, and Drone at home.

Court.

(Sings)

Like a Dog with a Bottle, &c.

Sylv.

Thou perfect Yoke-fellow! Thou heavy Ox, That want'st a Goad to make thee know thy strength! Death, Fiends and Torments! I could dig those Eyes out! I'll bear't no longer: Bedla••! Bedlam! Bedlam!

Court. sings, and dances a Iigg.

Sylv.

No more! I'll stay no more to be his Triumph. Be warn'd by me, ye Virgins that are blest With your first native Freedom; let no Oaths Of perjur'd Mankind wooe ye to your Ruin. But when a creeping, fawning, weeping Crocodile Moans at your feet, remember then my Fall: And when for pity most his Tears implore, Like me, your Vertue to your Hearts recall; Resolve to seorn, and never see him more.

[Exit Sylvia.

Court.

With all my heart, thou dear, dear Wife and Plague.

Beaug.

Methinks a very pitiful Case, this, Madam.

Lady.

If your Widow were but here, Sir, now, she might fairly see what she is like to trust to.

[Here the Sham Scene.

Enter a Woman and Dardevil.

Woman.

Oh Madam, Madam! What will become of us all?

Lady.

Become of us, Woman! Prithee, what's the matter? are we in any danger?

Dard.

Only your Brother in Law, Madam, and his Friend, with about a do∣zen Armed Men more, Madam; that's all the matter, Madam.

Lady.

My Brother in Law!

Dard.

Yes, your Brother in Law, Lady, if your Name be Porcia: such a one they ask for.

Beaug.

Porcia!

Court.

Yes, Porcia: I could have told you she was Porcia before.

Porcia.

'Tis but too true, Sir; my unhappy Name is Porcia.

Beaug.

Porcia, my Widow! my dear lovely Widow! What an ill natur'd trick was this Concealment!

Porcia.

Though, Sir, you never saw my Face before, If now you think it worth your least Regard, Protect me; for I dread my Brother's Fury, Ev'n worse than Matrimony. Here, Sir, I yield my self▪ Up yours for ever.

Beaug.

And shall I claim thee?

Porcia.

From this Hour, for ever.

Beaug.

And, by this happy Hour, I'll keep thee mine then. Secure thy self in the next private Closet. Peace to thy Heart, poor Widow.

[Exit Porcia.

Give us but Arms!—

Dard.

Those I've provided for you.

I found our Swords in a certain private Corner that shall be nameless, where I was proposing some civil Familiarities to the Lady Governess of the Family, just as the Blusterers entred.

Beaug.

Are they in the House, then?

Dard.

Yes, and have bound the Servants too; the hungry Rogues were all surpris'd at Dinner; you'll hear more of them presently, I'll warrant you.

Court.

Stand to your Arms, Beaugard; the Enemy's upon us.

Dard.

We have had a Succession of very pretty Adventures here; first we are enchanted, then we are fiddled to sleep, then we are fiddled up again: Then here's a Discovery of a very fair Lady followed by another, of a boun∣cing brown Bastard; and when we might have thought all Fortunes Tricks had been over, we are in a very fair way at last of having our Throats cut: But I'll secure one life that shall be my care.—

[Is stealing off.

Beaug.

Dog, stay and fight, or, by Heaven, I'll rip your Heart out.

Dard.

Well then, if I must fight I must: What a Pox, I have two good Se∣conds o' my side; and that has sav'd many a Cowards Credit before now.

[Noise within.

Theod.

Break open the Door there, force the Passage, down with it.

Enter Theodoret, Gratian and Father.

Beaug.

Well Gentlemen, what farther? What means this Violence here?

Theod.

I hope, Sir, that's no Secret, when you see who we are.

Fath.

We come, Sir, to demand a Lady, Sir; one Porcia.

Beaug.

How's that, my Father!

Fath.

Father me no Fathers: I am none of thy Father, Fellow; but I am these Gentlemens Friend here.—Now, Atheist, will I murder thee.

Dard.

Oh Law'd!

Fath.

Iack, Iack, Iack! Come hither Iack; a word with thee, Iack: Give me a hundred Pieces now, and I'll be o' thy side Iack; and help thee to beat off these impudent Fellows. Gentlemen, I cannot but own to you that this is my Son.—

Beaug.

Sir, were you nick'd to your Shirt, I would not part with a single Shilling, Sir.

Fath.

Though, if he were my Son ten thousand times, in such a Cause as yours, I'd draw my Sword against him.

[Draws.

Beaug.

You may remember, Gentlemen, a Challenge.

Grat.

Which you forgot, Sir.

Court.

Hah! A Challenge, Beaugard?

Beaug.

I'll tell thee more hereafter. To shew you I ha' not forgot it, the Lady you thus persecute is now under my Protection, and with my Sword I'll keep her so.

[Draws.

Court.

If we don't, may my Wi••e get the better of me, and wear mine for a Bodkin.

Theod.

Come on then, Sir.

Beaug.

For the Lady.

Grat.

For my Honour.

Court.

And for my Friend, Sir.

Dard.

Old Brimstone-Beard, have at thee.

Fight, The rest of The∣odore's Party fall in.

Court.

Base Traytors! Odds!

Beaug.

Confound 'em, thrust.

Beaugard and Courtine driven off.

Dard.

Oh, I am slain! My Maw runs out: What will become of me! Oh!

[Gratian and Dardevil fall.

Enter Theodoret.

Theod.

Secure that Passage now:—How fares my Friend?

Grat.

I'm wounded: send for a Chyrurgion quickly, for I bleed much.

Theod.

Look to your Master, Sirrah; and you, Fellow, be careful of this Beast here.

Dard.

Oh, a Parson! a Parson! dear Sir, a Parson! Some pious good Di∣vine, if you have any Charity.

Enter Father with Porcla.

Fath.

Here, here she is: I ha' got her for you; let me alone for ferreting a Female's Quarters out.

Theod.

I'd have you, Sir, take care for your Security: There's mischief done, Sir.

Fath.

The more mischief the better; thou shalt find me no Flincher, Boy: here, here; make sure of her.

Porcia.

Inhumane Tyrant! Why am I abus'd thus? Help! Murder! Help!

Theod.

None of your Tricks; no Cries, no Shrieks for Succour: By Hell, here's that shall silence you for ever. Thou Woman! Thou young, itching, wanton Devil! Fly to base Cells of Lust! Give up thy Vertue, Disgrace thy Name, and triumph ev'n in Infamy. On what a tott'ring Point his Honour stands, That trusts the Treasure in such lavish hands.

End of the Fourth ACT.