SCENE, a Hall.
Do we succeed, my dear Orada?
Beyond expectation, Madam — within some mo∣ments, you are in Camillus's Arms. — Hidewell is gone for Page 42 a well-appointed Litter, which wheels but round, whilst Hide∣well plays Tricks with my Lord; and then carries you to the English Embassador's.
Now my Desires are so near fulfilling, I begin to fear 'em — yet I know Camillus is Honourable.
All's Honourable. T•e House is Honourable, the La∣dy Honourable: Fear nothing, but in, and Pray for our Suc∣cess — I think I hear my Lord — You must be sure to seem very unwilling.
I'll warrant ye.
Is your Lady ready?
Yes, my Lord. But, good Lord! what a life have I had with her — I believe she has thrown Fifty things at my Head — She swears she won't go like a Thief in the Night.
Oh! when the Litter comes, we'll do well enough for that—I'll make her go, or leave her dead upon the place.— Dost thou think none of the Servants perceive our Preparations at this Back-door?
My Lord, there's no Danger—'tis so far through the Gardens; and now we have these Apartments, their Peo∣ple never come at 'em.
Here comes my trusty Fellow well! hast go a Litter?
Ay; and by th' M•ss, an able one too — I worn ye Mon, afore day, we be past whistling after.
Friend, you never talk'd to a Lord in your life, I suppose.
Pho, pho! 'tis all well — Is the Horse for me ready too?
Just by the Litter, my Lord! — my Lord — i •ackens it saunds rarely.
Call Elenora.
I will vent•re— but Heavens! how I shall be us'd!
A vine Dame, by th' Mess!
Commanded by my Slave! Monster! whither dost thou Page 43 intend to have me at this dead hour of Night? to Death, I hope.
To Death, if you resist — Orada, hall her along.
I think I do pull her— I believe her Arm will come off.
Why law ye, Mistress — dan't be so veard — Ye shall come to no hort— I have had vine Vokes in my Litter 'vore naw.
Away, Fool! leave halling me— I will go — thou cr•el Devil!
Come, I'll see her in the Litter; and then take Horse.
Sirrah! Sirrah! where's my Horse?
My Lord! m• Lord!
Sot! Dunce! my Horse!
Why a — why a — I ty'd him to the Pales — and tis so waundy dark without, I cannot find him.
Fly and search! Bid the Litter go softly: I'll oretake 'em.
I'm gone, I'm gone —
Eternal Fool! Call to me, and I'll come out.
This Fellow will make me mad — Beast! will ye stir!
Ch'ave heard Vokes talk of Ghosts, zo I have, about the Park Pales.
•ascal! I'll make a Ghost o' thee; if thou dost not go, or direct me, where my Horse is.
I run, I run!
I'll lead him a Dance— Here, here!
A Pox, where?
What's the matter?
Oh! Oh! Oh!
What ails the Fellow? Where's my Horse?
A Mur•ain, a Pla•ue take your Horse — ch'am maim'd for ever — For getting up to make haste, he has thrown me, and broke my Leg. Oh, my poor Wife and Children! they must to the Parish — Then Margery— how she'll take on! for, to zay truth, I lov'd her better than my Wife — Oh! Oh! Oh!
The Devil take thee, and all thy Family, for an un∣lucky Dog! I see, I must call up my Servants at last.
Pedro! Olonzo! Valasco!
Did you call, my Lord?
Yes. A Fellow has broke his Leg — You must wake Monsier Cureclap, my F•ench Surgeon — and, Olonzo, give Orders to my Grooms this moment, to prepare two Horses; Valasco shall go with me.
My Lord! what Fellow? Where is he? Why, here's no body!
So! the Cry's up agen — but Heaven be thanked, 'tis almost over now— What's the matter, my Lord Marquess?
Ruin'd, undone for ever! My Wife's Run away!
How! Run away! That's worse than I, Deary.
Unkind Deary.
My Lord, burying all Animosities, I beg you wou'd assist me now. I shall run mad— my Wife, nay more, a great Estate, lost! lost!
My Lord, you must be pacify'd — I've ill News to tell you — there's a Letter sent me from Rome, by the Car∣dinal Patron of Spain; that you stole a Young Lady, firmly contracted to a Noble Roman Count: Also His Majesty's Order to put the Lady in a Monastery, till your Cause is try'd.
I'll Hang my self! I'll Drown my self! I'll Bury my self alive! Dogs,! Whelps! get me Cords, Knives, Poyson, Sword, and Fire.
The Man's distracted — Diego, after; and perswade him.
'Tis a just Judgment on him, Deary, for being so Jealous.
Ay, Tittup; when Women never give any cause, you know, Tittup.
Hump!
Sir, my Lord Camillus• sends to give you an Account, that he expects the Lady Elenora at the English Embassador's. He hears, by an Express, your Honour has Orders from the King relating to her; to which he willingly submits.
An honest Lad, by the Honour of Spain — Tell him, Friend, I'll wait on him immediately at the Embassador's.
Deary.
What now! That begging look's put on for something.
Let me go with you, and see the Embassador's Lady, and the Marchioness, and —
— And the English Colonel. Ha! why, Tittup, canst thou look me in the Face, and ask this? — By the Honour of Spain, I believe this Hoity, Toity will desire me to admit him for her Gallant.
Truly, Deary, if the Colonel is there, you shall hear me charge him, never to see me more.
A new way, Tittup! to go into a man's Company, to forbid him your sight! Come— thou sha't along! and —