The Spanish wives a farce, as it was acted by His Majesty's servants at the theatre in Dorset-Garden.
Pix, Mary, 1666-1720., Brémond, Gabriel de. Pelerin.

SCENE, a Chamber.

Enter Elenora Marchioness of Moncada, and Orada.
Dost think the Messenger got off, Orada?
Faith I know not, Madam, — I thought I heard the Marquess's Voice as he went out. — The Fellow seem'd very cunning. —
All his Policy but little would avail him,
If my Husband met him, — by Heaven
'Tis kindly done of Count Camillus, to leave his Wealth,
His Palaces, and all the Pleasures of delightful Rome,
To follow wretched me to Barcellona.
I am a thing accurs'd by cruel Guardians,
For my Parents dy'd when I was young; they wou'd not else
Sure have forc'd me, condemn'd to an old jealous
Madman. — I saw his Follies and his Humors, and I begg'd,
Page  12Like a poor Slave, who views the Rack before him, —
All in vain; they were inexorable. — so may just Heaven
Prove to them in their greatest need!

This is a melancholy Thought, Complaints won't break Locks; we must set our Wits at work to free our selves. I have search'd the Lodgings round, but there's no Passage; an imprison'd Mouse could scarce escape.


But prithee, dear Orada, how got you in favour with my Lord? He us'd to hate ye abominably.


True; and whilst he did so, it was impossible for me To serve you Ladiship. — So I wheel'd about, —

Rail'd at you and all your Ways most heartily,
And immediately obtain'd his Grace.

Wou'd that do?


Yes, with a bantering Letter I show'd him, pretending I had got it from you; and a long Harangue how Wives ought to hear with their Husbands Ears, see with their Eyes, and make use of no sense without Permission. In fine, I ra∣vish'd him with my Discourse, till he threw those wither'd Sticks, his Arms, about me, and swore I shou'd remain his Heart's Joy.


Tis a great Point gain'd, you must wheedle him this Night with some Story, and keep him in the Closet— whilst I watch for Camillus, or his Agent.


I warrant you, Madam.

Orada, get me the Song I love, the succeeding tedious;
Imprison'd Wretches thus count the succeeding Hours,
And groan the melancholly Time away.
Page  13A SONG.
BE gone, be gone, thou Hagg despair;
Be gone, back to thy Native Hell:
Leave the Bosom of the Fair,
Where only Ioy shou'd dwell.
Or else, with Misers, willing Revels keep;
And stretch thy wretched Lids from Sleep.
But hence be gone, and in thy hated room
Let Hope, with all its gentle Blessings, come.
Page  14(A Noise of unlocking Doors.)
— So! now my Jaylor comes.
Then I'll observe my Cue. — Come, come Madam,
You must not complain.— Suppose your Husband
Kept you in an Oven, or a Cellar, you ought to be content —
I say, — Wives must submit.
Hold thy Tongue, Impertinence! —
When you were good for any thing, my Husband
Wou'd not let ye come at me: now he has brought you
To his turn, I must be perpetually plagu'd with you.
Enter the Marquess.
You are a perpetual Plague to me, I'm sure —
You hate every body that tells you your Duty.
Inhuman Spaniard! — what wouldst thou have?
—Am I not immur'd, buried alive?

Yes, yes; I have your Body, but your Heart is with the young Count Camillus. D'ye blush, ye Strumpet, in Ima∣gination — Ye Eve! Dalilan Devil! I'll let out that bounding Blood. — Orada — get a Surgeon to take away fifty ounces.


My Lord, you are not mad! What! have a Surgeon quiddling her white Arm, and looking Babies in her Eyes!


Monster! be thy self the Butcher, and let my Heart's Blood out: That Gentleman you nam'd has Honour, Truth, and Virtue.


Thou ly'st, false Women! he's a Rake, a Hellhound, and wallowing now in Rome's Brothels.


I could contradict him if I durst.



Perhaps so.


D'ye fleer, poysonous Witch? I am going to dispatch the ast Business that brought me to Barcellona. Then, Minion, thou shalt be immur'd in a remote Castle, where thou sha't not see the Face of Human-kind, except thy Women, and when I design to visit thee.

Page  15
Know this, and let it gnaw thy Jealous Heart:
Thy Visits will be my severest Punishment.
Watch her, Orada; preach those Maxims thy Zeal for me suggests; let her not have Liberty to think.
Fear not; let me alone to teaze her.
Exit Marquess, locking the Doors after him.
Ay, — make all fast —
Insufferable Tyrant! — Come Orada,
Let's go view the dear place, which at
Wish'dfor Night brings my dear Camillus to me.