The Spanish wives a farce, as it was acted by His Majesty's servants at the theatre in Dorset-Garden.

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Title
The Spanish wives a farce, as it was acted by His Majesty's servants at the theatre in Dorset-Garden.
Author
Pix, Mary, 1666-1720.
Publication
London :: Printed for R. Wellington ...,
1696.
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http://name.umdl.umich.edu/A54960.0001.001
Cite this Item
"The Spanish wives a farce, as it was acted by His Majesty's servants at the theatre in Dorset-Garden." In the digital collection Early English Books Online. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A54960.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed October 6, 2024.

Pages

SCENE, a Chamber.

Enter Camillus and Friar Andrew.
Cam.

Curst be my disappointing Stars, that thus have cross'd me! whilst I but aim at Elenora's Freedom; she, for my At∣tempts, suffers from her Tyrant-Husband worse usage.

Friar.

You may curse your Stars, if you please; but for my part, I bless the pretty twinkling Gentlemen, — that is, if they had an hand in my Deliverance.— I am sure, if I had been caught, my Usage would have been bad enough.—I long to know what is become of that Hangdog Hidewell. — Oh! — talk of the Devil, and he appears.

Enter Hidewell.
Hidew.

— Down on your Marrow-bones, Domine, and thank my Ingenuity, else your brittle Thread had been cut; and you left in a dark way by this time.

Friar.

Come, come; don't be so triumphant: — for had not my own roaring Preaching Voice —

Hidew.

Ay, ay; much us'd to Preaching, I believe,— un∣less it was Indulgence to a yielding Female.

Friar.

Well, as I was saying, had not my own Almighty Voice struck Terror thro' 'em, I had been in Limbo, long before your Ingenuity came to my Assistance. — Not but you did me a Kindness, — and I acknowledge it,— That's enough for a man of my Qualifications.

Cam.

Oh Hidewell! — all my Hopes are ruin'd, and poor Elenora must remain a Slave for ver.

Hidew.

My Lord, you are mistaken, — our Expectations now stand fairer; the Governor and Marquess both take me for a very silly honest Fellow,— and have order'd I shall have full and free access; — then let me alone for a Contri∣vance. — I'll get the Lady for you, and the Woman for

Page 28

my self; following the Example of all noble Knights, and trusty Squires.

Friar.

I find you are providing for your selves: But what must I have for my Pains-taking in this Affair?

Hidew.
You know, you cannot marry; —I'll give you leave To tempt my Damsel, when I have her: D'ye conceive — If she loves Spiritual Food, I'll not be your hind'rance.
Cam.

Dear Hidewell! thou sha't go immediately; learn when they remove; athom their Designs; I'll force her rom him on the publick Road.— He orc'd her from her plighted Faith, her Vows, and all her Wishes: My Force is just.

Hidew.

Trust to me, my Lord, and fear not.

Enter Colonel Peregrine.
Col.

My Lord! your humble Servant! I ha'n't rested to night, since I heard of your Disappointment, reflecting how my own Affair may prove.

Cam.

Ah Colonel! our Cases are very different, — You hunt but for Enjoyment, the huddl'd Raptures of a few tumul∣tuous moments: — But I am in quest of Virgin-Beauty, made mine by Holy Vows; constrain'd by Fiends, instead of Friends, to break the sacred Contract, and follow the Capricio of a mad Old Man. — Virgin did I call her? —By Heaven, I dare beleve she is one, at least her Mind is such; — and were she in my power, I'd soon convince the World of the Justice of my Cause.

Col.

My Lord! you shall command my Sword and Interest in Barcellona, —yet you must give me leave to mind my own Affairs. — I grant your Passion more Heroick; — for I shou'd scarce accept the Governor's Wie for mine, if he wou'd give her: — but I am amorous and eager, as Love and Beauty can inspire hot and vigorous Youth.

Friar.

By St. Dominick, well said, old Boy: I'll stick to thee. I hate these whining Romantick Lovers. Nor wou'd I have trudg'd to Barcellona, had I thought the Count only fix'd on Honora,sha, I can get it out, — Honourable Love.

Col.

Since you are so willing, Sir, — I have Employment for

Page [unnumbered]

you. — Can you play the Hector well, pursue with a fiery Countenance, swear without intermission, make noise enough, no matter what you say?

Friar.

I'll try, I'll try, — hum! hum! — by St. Do∣minick, by St. Patrick, St. —

Col.

Hold! hold! what d'ye mean? You must swear by Iupiter, Radamanthus, Mars, and those blustering Sparks; not such puny passive Saints.

Friar.

Well, Sir, — I shall be soon instructed: —But what must I swear all this for? or like the Bullies of the Age, must it be all for nothing?

Col.

No, no, there is a Cause; — Come along with me — and I'll give ye Clothes, and full Directions.

Hidew.

If I might advise ye, Sir, he should not undertake it; he has something in that unlucky Phy's shows him unfi, tho' coveting Intrigues: plaguy unfortunate Lines, I swear.

Friar.

Peace Eny Scrietchowl! Raven! Bat! Devil! When did I ever fail before that Night? nor then neither, sir∣rah, ha!

Hidew.

Rage on, Spight! I say but this. — Have a care, when in all your Gallantry, you don't forget, and make a Friar-like alutation.

Friar.

Pox take ye for putting me in mind on't — for, I always do a thing I am forbid.

Enter a Servant.
Serv.

Please your Honour, a Lady desires to speak with you.

Cam.

I'll wait on her.

Col.

I'll leave you this Apartment free, my Lord my Busi∣ness being in haste. — Come, Father!

Cam.

Farewell: may your Desires be fulfill'd, or you curd of 'em.

Col.

Your Servant.

Friar.

B'w'ye Hidewell! I don't question but to top you in my Performance when we meet next.

Hidew.

Heaven help the weak, I say.

Exeunt Col. and Friar.

Page 30

Enter Orada.
Cam.

Ha, my dear Orada! What Miracle got thee this liberty?

Ora.

My Lady was so throughly frighted at the noise of the Pistols, and the Confusion she heard, (for you, I suppose) that she has since been ill. — The jealous Marquess cou'd not find in's Heart to trust a Doctor with her, but sent me for a Cordial.

Cam.

I hope her Sickness has no Danger in it.

Ora.

No, no; 'tis over now, —scarce enough left for a Pretext for, my coming.

Cam.

But, what Hopes? What shall be our next Design? Speak Comfort, my best Friend!

Ora.

Faith, I know not well: —Suppose the Marquess were some way inform'd, you are in Barcellona, — 'twou'd right him out of his Wits; — I'd back it, and perswade him to send Elenora in the night privately, lest you attempt her on the Road, — then you may seize the unguarded Fair. — Methinks something like this might be done.

Cam.

We'l in, and consider farther on't.

Hidew.

Heark ye, Donna, if your Lady falls to my Lord, you prove my natural Perquisite, by the Example of a Thousand Years.

Oro.

What means the Fellow?

Cam.

Despise him not, Orada; he has prodigious Parts un∣der that Russet Coat.

Ora.

I care not for him, nor his Parts, I shall ne'r examine 'em.

Hidew.

You and I shall be better acquainted for all this.

Ora.

Away, Bumpkin!

Cam.

I tell ye he's a Beau in Disguise.

Ora.

I believe so.

Cam.

Come to this inner Room, Orada, lest we are inter∣rupted.

Exeunt.

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