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HA! where am I, Manage?
Heav'n be thank'd, Madam, at the Prince's Lodgings.
What happy Star conducted us, and sav'd us from the Fury of the Flames?
Those whose Influence are always Gracious to your Ladyship.
But where's the Prince? Where's my Illustrious Lover?
Waiting the Return of the Chair, Madam.
But my Endimion!— Is Endimion safe?
Madam, he is: I saw him in the Garden.
Then perish all the rest — Go send to search him out, and let him instantly be brought to me. — Ha — Lejere!
Bawd stand aside — and do your Office yonder — [Puts away Manage. Why are you frighted, Madam, because I'm not the Lover you expe∣cted?
What Lover! be witness Heaven —
That thou art false, false as the insatiate Seas, that smiling tempt the vain Adventurer, whom flattering, far from any saving there, swell their false Waves to a destructive Storm.
Why all this mighty Rage? — Because I disappointed you to Night?
No, by Heaven, I dully cou'd have waited for the Hour; have hop'd, and wish'd, and languish'd out an Age. But, oh Mirtilla! Oh thou perjur'd Fair! — But vanish all the softness of my Soul, I will be satyrial.
A Plague, a Torment, to your fickle Sex, Those smiling, sighing, weeping Hypocrites.And can you think my Flight is Criminal? because I sav'd this worthless Life— for you—
What Innocence adorns her Tongue, and Eyes! While Hell and Furies gives her Heart its motion, you know not where you are?
Perhaps I do not.
Swear, for thou'rt damn'd already, and by what black Degrees I will unsold: When first I saw this gay, this glorious Mischief, tho Nobly born, 'twas hid in mean Obscurity; the shining Viper lay half dead with Poverty, I took it up, and laid it next my Heart, fed it, and call'd its faded Beauties back.
Confess'd: And what of this?
Confirm'd you mine, by all the Obligations Profuseness cou'd invent, or Love inspire.
And yet at your Return you found me marry'd to another.
Death and Hell! that was not yet the worst: You flatter'd me with some Pretence of Penitence; but on the Night, the dear destructive Night, you rais'd my Hopes to all distracting Love cou'd wish— that very Night— Oh let me rave and dye, and never think that Disappoint∣ment o'er!
What, you saw me Courted at the Ball, perhaps?
Perhaps I saw it in your Chamber too. Breathless, and panting with new-acted Joy, the happy Lover lay— Oh Mirtilla!
Nay, if he knows it, I'll deny't no more.
There is no Honesty in all thy kind.
Or if there be, those that deal in't are weary of their Trade. But where's the mighty Crime?
No, I expect thou shou'dst out-face my Eyes, out-swear my H••ar∣ing, and out-lye my Senses — The Prince! the Prince! thou faithless dear Destruction.
The Prince! good Heaven! Is all this Heat for him?
Thou own'st the Conquest then?
With as much Vanity as thou wouldst do, if thou hadst won his Sword: Hast thou took care wisely to teach me all the Arts of Life, and dost thou now upbraid my Industry? Look round the World, and thou shalt see, Lejere, Ambition still supplies the Place of Love The worn∣out Lady, that can serve your Interest, you swear has Beauties that out-charms Fifteen; and for the Vanity of Quality, you feign and languish, lye, protest, and flatter— All Things in Nature Cheat, or else are Cheated.
Well said; take off thy Veil, and shew the Jilt.
You never knew a Woman thrive so well by real Love, as by Dissi∣mulation: This has a Thousand Arts and Tricks to conquer; appears in any Shape, in any Humour; can laugh or weep, be coy or play, by turns, as suits the Lover best, while simple Love has only one Road of Sighs and Soft∣ness; these to Lejere are due: But all my Charms, and Arts of gay Dis∣sembling, are for the credulous Prince.— Ha — he's here! — and with him the dear Youth that has enslav'd me, who triumph's o'er the rest.
Ha! Mirtilla, and my Brother here! Oh how I long to see that Stranger's Face.
Mirtilla, thou Charmer of Life's dull and redious Hours, how fares thy Heart? Dwells any Pantings there, but those that Love, and his dear Joys create.
Or if there do, you shou'd excuse it now.
How many Devils reign in beauteous Woman▪
My dear Lejere congratulate my Joys; take all my Friendship thou — but thou my Soul. Come, come, my Friend, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 retire to∣gether; I'll give thee leave to gaze upon my Heaven, and feed on all the Sweets that Friendship may: But all the rest of the v••s•• ••••o••e is ••rine.
Madam Endimion is already here.
Thou hast reviv'd me — Let him w••it my 〈◊〉〈◊〉.
Spight! Spight, and dire Revenge, seize my fo••••l ••oul!— Oh that I were a Man, a loose lewd Man, how easily wou••d I rob him of her Heart, and leave him but the shadow of Enjoyment.
Now, my dear Sister, if thou ever lovedst me, revenge thy Brother on this perjur'd Woman, and snatch her from this gallant Rival's Arms. She loves thee — Dissemble thou to love again; meet her Advances with an equal Ardour, and when thou hast wound her up to dalliance, I'll bring the Prince a witness of her Shame.
But what if he shou'd kill me—
I'll take care of that.
Then e'er the morning dawns, you shall behold it: She languishes to see me, and I wait on purpose for her Commands.
As I cou'd wish: Be sure to Act the Lover well.
As well as I can Act it.
That all Mankind are Damn'd, I'm positive; at least all Lovers are.
What have we here? the Spark that rally'd me about a Woman at the Ball to Night? Who is it, Sir, you Curse so heartily?
Ha, how Beautiful he is— how many Charms dwell in that lovely Face—
Gad, I thank you for that, you were kinder to Night, when you told me of a fine Woman that was in Love with me.
Why, what have you to do with Woman-kind?
A pretty civil Question; has the Lady that sent you, a mind to be inform'd?
Or if she had, you're not at leisure now you are taken up, Sir, with another Beauty. Did not you swear, never to speak to Woman-kind, till I had brought her, I told you, sigh'd for you?
Right, and I have kept my word Religiously.
The Devil you have, witness the Joy Mirtilla gave your Soul: Eve•• now you were all Transport, all Extasie of Love; by Heaven you had for∣got you brought me in, and past Triumphant in Mirtilla's Arms, Love in your Heart, and Pleasure in your Eyes.
Ay, sure he mistakes me for the Amorous Prince, and thus, perhaps, has mistook me all the Night: I must not undeceive him.
What e're you saw, I have a heart unwounded, a heart that never sound•••• loved, a little scratch it got the other day by a Young Beauty in the Ma••••, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Name I know not, but I wish'd to know it, and dogg'd her Coach, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ••••gh'd a little after her but since ne'er saw the lovely Vision.
Sure this was I.
That I took notice of, 'twas Green and Gold — Since that, I tri•••• now and then with Love to chase away this Image, and that's all.
Ha, now I view him well, 'tis the same handsome Fellow that En∣tertain'd us in the Mall last Thursday.
C••••e, Sir, 'tis late, please you to take a Bed with me to Night, where we'll beget a better Understanding.
A better than you imagine — 'Sdeath, to Bed with him, I tremble at the thought — Sir, I do not love a Bedfellow.
Sir, I have lent my Lodgings to a Stranger of Quality. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 I wou'd offer you a single Bed — but for once you may dispense with a Bedfellow.
I will not put you to that trouble, Sir.
Do you design to make me your Friend, and use me with Ceremony? Who waits there?
'Slife, what shall I do? I cou'd even consent, to prevent his going to Mirtilla — besides, I have no home to go to—
Come, no more Scruples — here— a Night-Gown and a Cap for the Gentleman.
What shall I do— I have a little urgent Business, Sir.
If there be absolute necessity, I'll see you to your Lodgings.
Oh, by no means, Sir. 'Sdeath, whither can I go?
Why do you pause? Deal freely with me, Sir, I hope you do not take me for a Lover of my own Sex — Come, come, to Bed.
Go you, Sir, I'll sit and Read by you till Day.
'Sdeath, Sir, de think my Bed's Infectious?
I shall betray my Sex in my denyal, and that at last I can but do if Necessity compel me to't.
Go on, Sir, you have sham'd me.
And thus thou hast my whole Adventure out, short was the Con∣quest, but the Joys are lasting.
I am glad on't, Sir.
Why do'st wear a Cloud upon thy brows, when Love's gay Sun∣shine dances in my Eyes? If thou'rt her Lover too, I pity thee; her Solemn Vows breath'd in the height of love, disarm me thy hopes, if Friendship wou'd permit thee.
I do not think it, Sir —
Not think it, not think that she has sworn!
Yes, doubtless, Sir — she's Prodigal of Vows, and I dare swear, by all she's sworn by, she'll break 'em all: She has less Faith than all the fickle Sex, uncertain and more wanton than the Winds, that spares no Births of Nature in their wild course, from the tall Cedar, to the flowers beneath, but Ruffles, Ravishes, and Ruines all.
I speak of my Mirtilla.
Why, so do I— of yours, of mine, or any man's Mirtilla.
Away, she that with force of Love can sigh and weep—
This very she, has all the while dissembled: Such Love she deals to every gawdy Coxcomb, how will she practice then upon a Hero?
Away, it cannot be.
By all your Friendship to me, Sir, 'tis truth.
Wrecks and Torture,— let her have made of me a meet Example, by whom the couzen'd World might have grown wise: No matter, then I had been pleas'd, tho' Cullyed — Why hast thou ruined my Repose with Truths that carry more Damnation than a Lye? But Oh— thou at my Friend, and I forgive thee.
Sir, I have done, and humbly ask your Pardon.
Stay, stay, Lejere, — if she be false, thou'rt all the World has left me; and I believe— but canst thou prove this to me?
Perhaps I may before the Morning's dawn.
Ha, prove it here — here, in this very House!
Ay, here, Sir
What, in my Lodgings will she receive her Spark— by Heaven, were he the Darling Son of a Monarch, an Empire's Hope, and Joy of all the Fair, he shou'd not live to rifle me of Peace, — Come, shew me this de∣stin'd Victim to my Rage.
No, my Revenge is only Comical— If you wou'd see how Wo∣man can dissemble, come on, and follow me.
What, disturb her Rest! Didst thou not see her fainting with the Fatigues this Night had given her, and begg'd me I wou'd leave her to Re∣pose?
Yes, and wonder'd at her Art; and when you begg'd to watch by her Bed-side, with what dear Promises she put you off; while every word fell feebly from her Tongue, as if 't had been her last, so very sick she was — till you were gone — heark — a Door opens — I will obscure the Lights.
Was ever Maid so near to being undone? Oh, Heavens! in Bed with the dear Man I love, ready to be betray'd by every sigh.
'Tis Olivia.
I left him here— what, by dark? Endimion, young, ha••dsom Sir, where are you?
Do you hear that, Sir?
Oh, are you here? —
Slife, 'tis Manage— how shall I escape—
Come, Sir, my Lady Mirtilla has dismist her troublesom Lovers, for your more agreeable Company.
Do hear that, Sir?
Come softly on, Sir, and follow me.
I'm all Obedience —
She cannot Ravish me, and that's a Comfort.
Oh, Lejere — can this be possible? Can there be such a Woman?
Follow him, Sir, and see—
See what! — Be witness of her Infamy! Hell! Hell, and all the Fires of Lust possess her, when she's so old and lewd, all Mankind shun her, — I ll be a Coward in my own di••e Revenge, and use no manly Mercy.— But oh, I faint, I faint with Rage and Love, which like two meeting Tydes, swell into Storms. — Bear me a minute to my Couch within.
What have I done, now I repent my Rashness.
Rise,— When Lovers are alone they pardon Ceremony — I sent for you to end the Night with me; say — how shall we imploy it?
I'll sigh, and gaze upon your lovely Face.
Nothing but sigh, and gaze; we shall grow dull.
I'll tell you Tales of Love, and sing you Songs
Thy Voice, 'tis true, can charm a thousand ways; but Lovers time their Joys, these for the Day, those for the lovely Night And when they would be silently in love, have Musick of soft Sighs and gentler Whispers.
Oh, Love inspires all this — What shall I do?
Nay, think not because I sent for you alone, while Night and Si¦lence favour Lovers Stealths, to take advantage of my yielding Heart.
I wou'd to Heaven she were in earnest now.
Oh, hide your Favourite, Madam — do you hear.
A jealous Lover only, comes in such a Storm — Dear, to my Heart, whose safety is my Life. Submit to be conceal'd— but where — Oh heavens, he comes — 'Tis for you I fear—
He comes—
Here, let my Train secure you — Till now I never found the right Use of long Trains and Farthingals.
'Sdeath, you have made these Pauses and Alarms to give her time to Jilt you.
Pray heaven she do — I'd not be undeceiv'd for all the Sun surveys.
My Lord the Prince! now you are kind indeed.
I thoug••t 〈◊〉〈◊〉 left you sick, extreamly sick.
And are you••g lov'd to find my Health return?
No, wondrous glad of it. You're mighty Gay, Mirtilla, much in Glory.
Can he who lays his Fortune at my Feet, think me too glorious for his Arms and Eyes?
Fifty to one, the Gyps•• ji••s him yet.
Pray heaven she lyes but handsomly —
— for mine Mirtilla. Ha — ha —
Am I not yours? You cannot doubt my Vows.
She'll do't, and make me love her anew for her rare dexterity at dissem∣bling.
I left you wearied, going to your Bed, but find you at your Toylet gayly drest•• is if some Conquest you design'd e'er morning.
Ma••••••••, Sir, from the Fire, secur'd these Trifles: and I was trying several Dresse••on; that this slight Beauty that you say has charm'd you, might, when yo•• s•••• it next, compleat the Conquest.
And that thou wilt, if Flattery can do't.
Now, were she guilty, as I am sure she is not, this softness would undo me, and appease me.
You seem as if you doubted what I say.
H••••d, I scorn to need an Oath to six my Faith: Oh! thou art all Divine and canst not err
Curs'd be the Tongue that da••es profane thy Vertue, and curs'd the listning Fool that dares believe it.
What a poor, wretched, baflled thing is Man, by feebler Woman aw'd and made a Coxcomb!
Durst any one traduce my Vertue, Sir? and is it possible that you could hear it — Then perish all the Beauties you have flatter'd.
Come to my Arms, thou Charmer of my Soul! and if one spark of Jealousie remain, one of those precious Tears shall quench the C••ime — Oh, come and let me lead thee to thy Bed, and breathe new Vows into thy panting Bosom.
Now all the Plagues of injur'd Lovers wreck thee; 'Sdeath, where has she hid Olivia? or how am I deceiv'd? —'Tis Day, and with it new Invention rise to damn this Woman to the sin of Shame: Break all the Chains that hold the Princely Youth, and sink her with her fancy'd Pow'r and Vanity.
Morrow my Lady Youthly, and thank you for my Nights Lodg∣ing — You are as early up as if it had been your Wedding-day.
Truly, Sir Rowland, that I intend.
But where's the Bridegroom, Madam?
how now, Roger, what, no news yet of George?
Alas! none Sir, none, till the Rubbish be removed.
Rubbish — What—what is George become the Rubbish of the World then?
Why, Man is but dust, as a man may say, Sir.
But are you sure, Roger, my Jewel, my Sir Moggy escap'd.
The Watch drew him out of the Cellar-window, Madam.
How Mr. Twang, the Young Gentleman burnt — Oh —
Alas! my Grandmother faints with your ill News—Good Sir Row∣land comfort her, and dry your Eyes.
Burnt, Madam! No, no, only the House fell on him, or so —
How! the House fell on him— Oh!
Ah, Madam, that's all; why, the young Rogue has a Back like an Elephant— 'twill bear a Castle, Madam.
Alas, good Man: What a Mercy 'tis, Mr. Twang, to have a Back like an Elephant!
Of what wonderful Use it is upon Occasion —
Ay—but—but I shall never see him more, Back nor Breast.
Good Sir, discomfort not my Lady — Consider man's a flower —
Ay, but George was such a Flower! He was, Mr. Twang, he was the very Pink of Prentices. Ah! what a rare Rampant Lord Mayor he wou'd have made? And what a Swinging Sheriff —
What, cry, so near your Wedding-day, Sir Rowland?
Well, if he be gone — Peace be with him; and 'Ifaks, Sweet∣heart, we'll Marry, and beget new Sons and Daughters— but— but— I shall ne'er beget another George.
This is but a scurvy Tune for your Hymenical Song, Sir.
Alas! Mrs. Teresia, my Instrument is untun'd, and good for no∣thing now but to be hung upon the Willows.
What's here, my Rogue?
What's the matter, Gentlemen, that ye enter the House in this Hostile manner?
What, Mr. Twang, de see!
Ay, ay — stand by Divinity — and know, that we, the Pil∣lars of the Nation, are come, de see — to Ravish.
Oh, my dear Sir Morgan.
I do not intend to Ravish, like a Jew, in my own Tribe—
What say they, Mr. Twang, Ravish? Oh, save my Honour— lead me to my Bed-Chamber, where if they dare venture to come, they come upon their Peril.
Old Fellow, do'st hear? Sir Pandarus of Troy, deliver me my Cresida, de see, peaceably, or I am resolved to be••r her off Vi & Armis.
Sweet Nephew, retire, we are just upon making your Peace.
Ha— Old Queen Gwiniver, without her Ruff on? —
Is there a man in Nature's Race so vile, dares lift a guilty Hand against his Father?
Father me no Fathers; I fight for Teresia, my Lawfully begotten Spouse.
That I once call'd you Brother, saves your Life; therefore resign your Sword here at his Reverend Feet.
Sirrah; you lye, Sirrah —
There, drag away this Brute.
Rogues, Dogs, bring Mrs. Teresia along with you.
Sure this is my fine Fellow — and yet the very same that's to be marry'd to my Grandmother; nor can that City Habit hide the Gentleman,
Burnt, say you, Mrs. Teresia de see — my Lady Mirtilla burnt! Nay then, 'tis time to go sleep, get sober, and Marry again.
Enough, my Boy, enough; thou deserv'st my whole Estate, and thou shalt have it, Boy — This day thou shalt Marry the Widow, and I her Grand-child. I'll to my Lawyers, and settle all upon thee instantly —
How! Marry to day — Old Gentleman, you must be couzen'd, and Faith, that goes against my Conscience — Ha, the Fair, the Young Teresia there — When a man's bent upon Wickedness, the Devil never wants an Opportunity to present him with, that she shou'd be in my way now— Fair Creature, are you resolv'd to be my Mother-in-law?
As sure as you to be my Grandfather, Sir — And see— the News of your being come, has rais'd my Grandmother.
A Pox upon her, her Ghost had been less frightful.
I cou'd have spar'd her now too; but see she advances as swift as Time.
And as old: What shall I do? I dye to speak with you —
Where— where's this Young Welcome Gentleman — Oh, are you here, Sir —
Lettice, take Teresia, and get you to your Chamber, she has her Trinkets to get ready against the Wedding anon, for we'll make but one work of both.
Ay, 'twill save Charges, Madam —
Ay, ay, get you gone, Lovers sometimes wou'd be private.
Heark ye — leave me not to her mercy, by Love, if you do, I'll follow you to your Chamber.
Leave you! no, hang me if I'do, till I have told you a piece of my mind, for I find there's no dallying.
Well, Sir, I have finish'd the Great Work.
I wish you had — Teresia, once you made me hope you did not hate me.
What says he, Teresia?
He says, he hopes you do not hate him, Madam.
No, by my Troth, Sir; I feel something for you, I have not felt before.
Not these Threescore Years, I dare swear — You have too much Wit, Teresia, to have been only pleas'd with the Embroider'd Coat, and Gawdy Plume, where still the man's the same.
What says he, Embroider'd Coat and Plume?
He hopes your Ladyship likes him ne'er the worse, for being with∣out those Fopperies.
Marry do I not, I love not this over-finery in a Husband; those Fellows that Dress, think so well of themselves, they never mind their Wives.
Are you so dull, Teresia, not to see, this Habit was put on, only to get an Opportunity to tell you my Passion?
Tell me of his Passion! was it so, alas, good Young Man — Well, well, I'll defer your Joys no longer, this Night shall make you happy. Mr. Twang shall join us, Sir.
A blessed hearing — You see, Charming Maid, how very shore a space there is between this and the hast'ning hour; stand not on Virgin Niceties, but answer me, our time admits of no Consideration.
I have not been this Four and Twenty hours a Lover, to need Con∣sidering; as soon as you had my Heart, you had my Consent, and that was the first moment I saw you at the Basset-Table.
Ha! at the Basset-Table?
Yes, I was the frank Youth that lent you Money — but no more— your Time and Place.
What are you prating to him there?
He doubts your Love, Madam, and I'm confirming it.
Alas, good Gentleman! — anon I'll convince him — for in the Ev'ning, Sir, the Priest shall make us one.
Ah, Madam, I cou'd wish 'twere not so long defer'd, for sure I love you like a sighing Swain, and as a Proof of it, I have here prepar'd an Em∣blem of my Love in a Dance of Country Lovers, where Passion is sincere.
Good-lack-a-day, indeed you're so obliging: But pray let us have the Dance.
Very pretty indeed. Come, good Gentleman, don't droop, don't droop; come, hold up your Head — you may be allowed one Kiss before∣hand.
Come, come, Teresia, come with me.
I'll send a Chair to your Back-Gate anon, that shall wait you on the Field-side, and bring you whither I shall appoint. Get Ready instantly.
And if I fail, may I be eternally damn'd to the Embraces of Old Age.