SCENE, a Hall.
A-pox, a-pox! Was this your Conference• —If I had guess'd at it, the Devil shou'd have confer'd with ye for me.
I wou'd ha' thank'd a Friend that sorewarn'd me, of an approaching Evil.
Evil! What Evil? The Evil is my knowing it; if I had not, 't had been none. — Yet how am I convinc'd you have not abus'd my Tittup: —By the Honour of Spain, I'll Fight for Tittup: Guilty or not Guilty.— My Lord! — what you have said is a scandalous, contagious, outragious,—
Hold, — if you say one word more, I draw.
Well, well! — I will have Patience, — but if this Colonel doth not come with the •ham-plot you have buzz'd into my Head, by King Philip's Beard, —
Threaten not; Ill meet you when and where you please, ill-manner'd Fool!
Diego! I have born up, — yet, Igad, to own the Truth, I am damnably afraid — there's something in it. — That English Colonel is a plaguy Dog; he looks as if he were made to enter all Breaches, conquer every way. — I'll try if I can sing after this News.
— A scurvy Tune, as I hope to be a Grandee. — Nay, if my Voice is broke, my Heart will quickly follow• — Diego!
I ever found thee faithful; — if the Spark does come, follow exactly my Directions, and all shall be well yet.
Fear not me, my Lord, I'd lose a Leg or an Arm at any time in your Honour's Service, and never cry, Oh! for't.
Heark, heark! I think I hear a Noise.
Oh, my Noble Lord! I'm ruin'd, unless your Pity save me: in England I, in a Duel, kill'd a Gentleman, and his Friends have pursu'd me hither, setting upon me, Four at once.
Alas and welladay! 'tis sad indeed! and you, I war∣rant, are wounded desperately.
I fear, to death, — oh! oh!
Ah, the dissembling Rogue! it grieves me almost to disappoint him, the Smock-fac'd Dog does it so cunningly.
Diego, get one of my able Surgeons to search the Wound.
I thank you, my Lord; my own Servant has great Skill in Surgery, I'll trust him.
Diego! carry this Gentleman to an Apartment near the Garden, free from Noise, — I'll send Tittup to visit ye by and by.
Your Lordship's all Goodness.
And thou all Treachery,— Oh! the English whine∣ing Dog — how shall I punish him? By the honour of Spain, he deserves to be utterly disabl'd, — render'd wholly incapable. — But I'll have Mercy in my Anger: hang't — I have lov'd the handsom Whipster, and he shall find it.
—So, — have ye dispos'd of him as I order'd?
Yes, my Lord; and whilst I was in the Chamber, he groan'd as if his Heart were breaking, — But I had the Curiosity to stay a little at the Door, and heard both laugh ready to burst, ••'t please your Honour.
Please me! not much, in faith, Diego; but — let me tell 'em, had they fell into the hands of any other of our Na∣tion, their Mirth wou'd quickly ha' been spoil'd, and their Whoring too adod.
My Lord, we have took the Ringleader, that pursu'd the Noble English Colonel.
Good Boys! Good Boys! — Well, Sir, — And what are you?
If you are a man of Authority, as by your House and Page 33 Port I guess you are, I charge you, do me Justice; for by yon∣der blew Firmament, and all those hated Stars, that twinkl'd at my Brother's Murder, I'll flea that cursed Colonel.
Thou Hangdog, begot in Lewdness, and born in some Sink of Sin, — Son of a thousand Fathers, and Maker and Contriver of Cuckolds without number; I know thee for a Pimp: Here, Diego! fasten upon one Whisker, whilst I take t'other; if they are fast, I may alter my Opinion• — They are reverend Whiskers, I confess,— if not, I proclaim thee a Pimp.
Oh, mercy! mercy! I do own my Profession; but good my Lord, forgive me.
Ay, that I will, but I'll punish thee first, — here, — carry him to the red Tower, and let him have Two hundred Lashes, till all Thoughts of Concupiscence, either for himself or others, be throughly mortified.
Hear me, my Lord!
No, away with him.
You must hear me; I am a Priest, I excommunicate ye else.
A Priest, and a Pimp! Oh Lord!
Why? is that such a Wonder?
Look, my Lord! here hang his Beads under h•s Clothes.
Now, my Lord, you are satisfied the Secular Arm can't punish me; pray give me a Release.
Hold, hold, not so fast.— Take him, and carry him to the next Abby just as he is, and tell the Fathers what ye know.
'Tis well 'tis no worse, — to deal with the Tribe, let me alone, they'l judge my Frailties by their own.
Say ye so, Beelzebub, in his own Cloathing! but I'll be a Thorn in thy side, I'll warrant thee, old Father Iniquity.
My Lord, w•'ll set the Mob upon him, that's worse than all the Justices in Quorum.
I'le Curse, Excommunicate, Purgatory ye, Hang ye, Damn ye.
My •eary, Spywell tells me our dear Colonel's wounded.
Oh, most dangerously, Tittup; he has as many holes thro' him as a Jew's Cake.
Alas, then I fear he's dead.
No, no; Nature has fram'd his Body for the purpose; a Sword passes and repasses like a Jugler's Ball, and no harm done.
Cruel Deary! you make a Jest •n't, but I'le visit and comfort him.
Hold, hold; his Wounds are dressing: You wou'd see him naked, wou'd ye?
Oh Gad! not for the World.
Retire to your Chamber, I'le send for you when 'tis convenient.
I will, Dear; but pray take care of him.
Yes; there shall be Care taken of him, I promise ye. — A hopeful young Gentleman, by the Honour of Spain. — Diego! follow to my Closet, there I'le make thee sensible of my Design.
Dear Orada! bring'st thou Comfort, or must I remove from Barcellona to Wilds and unfrequented Desarts, impene∣trable Castles, and all the melancholy Mischiefs spritely Youth can fear?
I hope not, Madam; the Lord Camillus employs his Brain and all his busie Instruments, for your deliverance.
Give me the Scheme of his Design, that I may guess at the Success.
Madam, — my Lord.—
Take that — thou impudent Performer of my Ty∣rant's Will,
My Lord, you see what I suffer for your Service.
But we'll be so reveng'd, Orada; when we ha•• her wholly to our selves, by Heaven, I'll bring that pamper'd Carcass down: The Roses shall wither in her wanton Cheeks; her Page 35 Eyes, whose hot Beams dart Fire, grow dull and languid: — By all my Pangs of Jealousie, I'd rather clasp a Fiend, than Doubting Sleep by such an Angel.
And 'tis thy Doubts, Old Man, not I, torment thee— Our Sex, like Water, glides along pleasant and useful; but if grasp'd by a too violent Hand, unseen they slip away, and prove the fruitless Labour vain.
To Waters, Waves, and Rocks most justly may you be campar'd; — but I want time to hold an Argument. — Prepare this Night for your remove, — I am fix'd,—your Jewels, Equipage and all put up.
Let my Slaves take care of that,— What need have I of Jewels, Ornaments, or Dress, condemn'd to Cells and ever∣lasting Solitudes?
My Lord, a Country Fellow is very importunate to speak with you.
Bring him in, — Mistress, you to your Chamber. You hear the man's Business is with me.
May it prove a vexatious one, I beseech Heaven.
—Oh, my honest Fruiterer, what brought you hither?
Why, an't shall please ye,—a marvellous thing has hapt since I see ye last, — a parlous Contrivance, by th'Mess, — as I hope for Margery, I ne'r see the like.
The matter, Friend!
Nay, Gadsores, '•is zo strange, I can't tell whether I was asleep or dreamt, or no.
Prithee tell me quickly; what Wonder hast thou m•t with, Fellow?
Zir, I'm but a poor Fellow; but, as Neighbour Touch has it, I can zee into a Milstone, as var as another man.
Talk to the purpose, or I shall grow tir'd: — is it any thing concerning me or my Honour?
Ay, ay, Zir, you don't know the bottom of this Plot.
Nor the top on't neither, — dall•ing Fool, proceed.
Nay, you'l know it soon enough: — Ha•'t you a very handsom Wife, buxom and free, as the Saying is?
Oh the Devil, lies it there? Well! what follows?
I•ags, Cuckoldom, ch'am afraid, Zir,—for coming out of this Hause, there meets me a waundy handsom Fellow, •adsores, — he had the swinginst— what d'ye call't.—
Perruque, d'ye mean?
Ay, u•slid! our biggest Bushel, that's kept on pur∣pose for the Maste•s of the Measures to zee, wou'd not, —no, • sacks, ch'um zure — it wou'd not cover it.
Did he enquire after my Wife?
By my troth he did. — Friend, says he, do you go often to that House? — Mahap I do, — mahap I do not, said I, what's that to you? Nay,—no harm, quoth he; and thereupon slipt a piece of Gold into my Hand.— I must con∣fess that soften'd me, — and he went on,— D•st thou not know an old jealous, freakish, confounded Marquess lives there? Pray ye now dan't be angry, Sir, — I use but his own words.
No, no, go on.
And has he not, quoth he, a young lovely Wise?—. And then he run on with hard words, I cou'd not conceive for above a quart•r of an hour, tho I was wise enough to pick it out, that he was Amour'd on her.
Confound him, confound him!
Quo•h he,— Canst thou convey a Letter to her? —Why how now mon, zed I, who dost take me for, a Pimp? No, no, ch'am no Pimp,— an I war chou'd ha' better Cloas o' my Back, — •y th' Mess, chall do none o' your Bawdy M•ssages, not I; Do't your self, an you wull, for Tim. With that he drew his Sword, and I very vairly took up Heels, and run away, for ch'am very veard of a naked Sword.
Couldst thou not discover his Name?
His Ze•vants call'd him — Count — a—Cam— Cam — Cam — ch'am zure 'twas zummot about Cam.
Ay, ay, that's it, that's it, in tro•h.
Oh, I am ru•n'd, blown up, undone! Camillus has his Pockets cramm'd with Gold; — he'll bribe the World to take his part: — Then that Contract — so firm and sure, — Page 37 I lose her, and what I value more, h•r large Fortune. — Orada, what shall I do?
Suppose ye remove my Lady in a Litter, without any of your own Attendance,— for indeed I fear he'll way-lay all the Roads.—My Lord, she may be got many Leagues this night, and when in safety, you may send back for your Equipage.
M•ny Leagues! we'•l go a Thousand, — for I'll be with her, and force her speed.
Zir, Zir, here che may serve ye, for I keep a Litter, as well as zell Fruit.
Oh! thou'rt an honest Fellow; and, fear not, you shall be rewarded beyond your Wishes:— Come in,— I'll give thee an Order for one of my best Horses, because my Servants shall not suspect 'tis for my self. Orada! get your Lady r•ady, — '•is now near Night, and it shall be done with speed.
Be sure you lame the Horse now; for as soon as the Lit∣ter has lost sight of the Marquess, we return into the City, and towards the Morning escape in a Felucca already order'd,— whilst the disappointed Marquess is •unting the Roads in vain.
Madam, I desire none of your Directions, I am per∣fect Master of my Trade. — I cannot but think how bravely I shall maintain thee. Girl; for Mony comes rowling in.
Mind your Business, and think of Fooling afterwards.