The younger brother, or, The amorous jilt a comedy : acted at the Theatre Royal by His Majesty's servants / written by the late ingenious Mrs. A. Behn ; with some account of her life.

SCENE the First.

Enter Welborn dressing himself; to him, a Footman with a Letter.

Wel.

PRethee what became of the Spark that lay with me last night?

Foot.

I know not, Sir, he 'rose before day— What Letter's this, Sir? It lay upon your Toylet.

Gives Welborn a Letter.

Wel.

To the dear Man whose Name I would be glad to

Reads.

know—Hum'— a Woman's Hand —

Opens it.

The Lady you saw last Thursday in the Mall, you had in Bed with you last Night. Adieu.

Oh! dull Divinity of Love! that by no Instinct, no sympathizing Pains or Pleasure, could instruct my Sense, how near I was to Happiness!

Enter George, fine.

—Lejere, behold me here the most unlucky Fellow breathing. Thou know'st I told thee how I was in love with a young Woman in the Mall: And this very Night, I had this very Woman in my Arms.

Geo.

Is this your ill Luck, Sir?

Wel.

'Sdeath, all the while I took her for a Man: But, finding me asleep, she softly 'rose; and, by a Light yet burning in my Chamber, she writ this Billet, and left it on my Table.

Gives it George, he reads it.

Geo.

By all that Good, Olivia! — And were you very Honest, Sir?

Wel.

To my eternal Shame, as chast as Ice.

Geo.

What will you say now, Charles, if I bring this Woman to you again?

Wel.

Canst thou? Oh, let me kiss thy Lips away.

Geo.

For all her Frollick, Charles, she's very honest, a Fortune, and of Quality — and were't not for Olivia, thou shouldst marry her.

Wel.

Olivia I ne'er saw, and now 'twill be too late.

Geo.

Nay then, Sir, I must fight in her Defence.

Wel.

You fight in her defence! Why, dost thou love her? — By all that's Good, I will resign her to thee.

Geo.

You shall not, Sir; and know she is my Sister.

Wel.

Olivia thy Sister! —

Geo.

Ask no more Questions, but defend your self, if you refuse to marry her; for her Honour's mine.

Wel.

Were she an Angel, I must love this Woman.

Geo.

Then thou shalt have her— Hast, and get a Licence — no more — trust my Friendship— Go.

Exit Welborn.

Enter Olivia.

Olivia, where did you lie last Night? — Nay do not blush, for you may yet be Vertuous.

Oliv.

Virtuous! Not the young Roses in the bud secur'd, nor breaking Morn, ungaz'd at by the Sun; nor falling Snow, has more of Purity.

Geo.

I do believe you; but your dangerous Frolicks will make the World talk shamefully.

Oliv.

Let him talk on, I will not humour Fools.

Geo.

No more — here's Manage— Contrive an Assignation with Mir∣tilla; but do not hide again where none may find you. This done, I'll tell you more, and make you happy. How now, Manage, is the Prince stirring?

Man.

He's in his dressing Room, Sir, — This from my Lady, Sir.

Slides the Letter into Olivia's hand as she passes out.

Geo.

What have you there, Olivia?

Takes the Billet.

Oliv.

An Assignation from your perjur'd Mistriss, Sir.

Geo.

'Tis well—You must obey the Summons. And wind her up to all the height of Love; then let her loose to Shame. I'll bring her Lover in the height of Dalliance, who, when he sees her Persidy, will hate her.

Oliv.

And then the lovely Man stands fair for me.

Aside.

Geo.

Go write an Answer back— and wait her hour.

Exeunt severally.

SCENE, the Second. The Dressing-Room. Discovers the Prince at his Toylet, dressing. Musick and a Song. Enter Lejere; waits till the Song is ended. The Prince sees him, comes to him with Joy, and falls about his Neck.

SONG,

by Mr. Gildon.

AH, Charmion! shroud those killing Eyes, That dart th' Extreams of Pleasure, Else Celadon, tho' favour'd, dies As well as him that you despise, Tho' with this diff'rent measure: While ling'ring Pains drag on his Fate, Dispatch is all th' Advantage of my State; For, ah! you kill with Love, as well as Hate.

2.

Abate thy Luxury of Charms, And only Part discover; Your Tongue, as well as Eyes, had Arms To give a Thousand fatal Harms To the poor listening Lover: Thy Beams, Glory's Veil'd shou'd be, And like the Front of Heav'n, unseen, pass by; For to behold 'em, in full force, we dye.

Prince.

Lydia, Oh! I faint, I dye with thy Beauty's Luxury! By heaven, I'm all Rapture, Love, and Joy: Such a dear Night, Lejere! — Poets may fancy pressing Goddesses, on downy Beds of Clouds— But oh, Lejere! — Those Gods were never half so blest as I!

Geo.

What pity 'twere to wake you from this Dream.

Prince.

It is not in the Power of Time nor Age: For even then Mirtilla will have Charms! Oh, how she speaks! how well she'll grace a Story

Geo.

How gay her Wit! how movingly she writes!

Prince.

I do believe she do's.

A little seriously.

Geo.

Would it displease you, should you see a Billet from her?

Prince.

That's as it were directed.

Gravely.

Geo.

You would not credit what you saw last night.

Prince.

Nor wou'd have lost that Night for all the Treasure the vast Ocean hid••••.

Geo.

I wou'd not have a Man so good, and great, be made a Woman's P••operty—There, Sir.

Gives him the Billet.

Prince.

I'll not believe it her's; there are a thousand ways to ruin Inno∣cence; if she be false— she's damn'd. Confirm me, and of course I shall despise her. You cure me, when you shew her worth my Scorn.

Geo.

Will you be rul'd then, and believe it Friendship in me?

Prince.

I will.

Geo.

Give her, by Absence, but an Opportunity; feign some Excuse to leave the Town to day.

Prince.

See where she comes—

Enter Mirtilla.

Adorn'd with all the beauteous Wonders of her Sex. The Gods of Love are playing in her Eyes, and give us Wounds from ev'ry graceful Motion? Ah, my Mirtilla! how shall I support the Absence of a many coming Hours, that languish, being from thee but a moment?

Mir.

I hope, my Lord, Fate is not so unkind, to let me live without you many Hours.

Prince.

Can all this be dissembl'd?

Aside to George.

Geo.

How much more have I heard? yet all was false.

Prince.

I must this Day— this tedious live-long Day, be absent from thy sight — but shall be back i'th'Evening: I'll leave Lejere to wait on your Commands.

Mir.

Lejere shall ever, Sir, be dear to me —

But I'll retire, and sigh till your Return— That World affords no Plea∣sure where you are not.

Prince.

Do you hear that, Sir?

Aside to George.

Till Night, thou dearest Blessing of my Life — Adieu.

Mirtilla going out, pulls Lejere by the Sleeve.

Mir.

Thou little, mischievous, informing Thing, how vainly hast thou la∣vish'd out Invention!

Smiling. Exit.

Prince.

By Heaven, methinks 'twere Sin but to suspect her.

Geo.

Think so; I'll trouble your Repose no more: I've done my Duty, and I wou'd not see you made a—

Prince.

Property— Ha— A loath'd convenient Tool — A Wo∣man's Implement— S'death! she that off— Loose to the nasty Love of every Tool, that will be Flatter'd, Cozen'd, Jilted, Cuckolded— No more— I will, unseen, convey my self into the Closet in my Dressing-Room; 'tis near her Bed— And if I find her Wanton.

Geo.

If you find her— The Youth is waiting now that shall convince you.

Prince.

Where?— Oh set the happy Slave but in my View, and—

Geo.

No faith, Sir, be convinc'd before you strike, for fear she jilt you out of Sense and Reason—

Prince.

Come to my Closet, from thence we may observe all that passes in her Chamber; from whence I'll break upon the perjur'd Fair, like Thunder from a Cloud, and more destructive.

Exeunt.

Seene discovers Mirtilla and Manage.

Mir.

Is the Prince gone?

Man.

Yes, Madam.

Mir.

Then bring Endimion to me.

Man.

Madam, I wish you'd think no more of him; for I foresee, that this Amour must Ruine you. Remember you have left a Husband for the Prince.

Mir.

A Husband, my Drudge, to toil for me, and save me the Expence of careful Thoughts: My Cloak, my Led-Horse, for Necessity to fill my Train— no more— but Endimion waits.

Exit Manage.

—There is a native Generosity in me, that checks my Inconstancy to this great Man; yet I have so much Woman in my Soul, cannot pain my self to do him Justice— A new desire of humouring my Wish, sways all my Interest, and controuls all my Honour. Why should I lose a Pleasure for a Promise, since Time, that gives our Youth so short a Date, may well excuse our needful Perjury.

Enter Manage, and Olivia, she runs and Embraces him.

—Let the young bashful Maid, unskill'd in Love, deny the pressing Swain.

Let wither'd Age who fondly dreams of Virtue, lose the dear Opportuni∣ties of Life.

The coming Hours present themselves to us; and are too nice, not to be snatch'd when offer'd.

Oliv.

So hasty this disarms me of Excuse.

Aside.

Mir.

Why are thy Eyes bent down? Why dost thou pause?

Oliv.

So hot!— I must prepare to shew my Sex's Evidence, if nothing else will do.

Unbuttons her Coat.

Mir.

What not a Word!

Advance thou bashful Youth — Love in thy Eyes, and Coward in thy Heart! The one all Fire, the other too much Ice.

Prince, and George, looking out.

Prince.

Yet stay me, my Lejere, from my hasty Vengeance.

Oliv.

Ah, Madam, how are you mistaken! 'Tis not Coldness in me— but—

Mir.

What? Bashfulness!

Oh Love will lend thee Courage.

This Trembling is the soft Effects of it.

Oliv.

Oh how vilely she's mistaken!

Mir.

Come to my Bed, and press the Roses down; and lend more sweet∣ness to 'em than they bring.

She leading him to her Bed. The Prince enters, with Lejere, holding his Sword in hand, he takes hold of Olivia.

Prince.

Love— thus I fling thy gaudy Fetters off, and am no more a Slave to faithless Beauty.

The Prince helding Olivia by the Bosom of her Coat, her Breast appears to Mirtilla.

Mir.

Ha! what do I see?— Two Female rising Breasts. By Heav'n a Woman.— Oh fortunate Mischance.

This while George is arguing with the Prince, not to hurt Olivia.

Prince.

No I will not hurt thee, cease thy trembling.

Mir.

Oh, Sir, 'twere Sin to hurt the lovely Youth.

Prince.

No, Madam, since I have taken back my Heart, I can present you with another Lover.

Gives Olivia to her

Mir.

Ha! another Lover!— What means my Prince?

Prince.

Eternally to leave you to your Frailty.

Mir.

Can you so easily cancel all your Vows?

Then kill me at your Feet I do implore it.

Kneels and Weeps.

Prince.

Away, I do forgive Thee, wretched Woman — But yet be gone— least Love and Rage return, and I should kill you yet with your young Darling.

Mir.

Whom mean you, Sir, this lovely Maid?

Oliv.

Maid!— What means she? Sure she cannot know me.

Prince.

Talk on, false Woman! till thou hast perswaded my Eyes and Ears out of their native Faculties, I scorn to credit other Evidences.

Mir.

Try 'em once more, and then repent, and dye.

Opens Olivia's Bosom, shews her Breasts.

Prince.

Ha— by Heav'n a Woman!

Mir.

You that wou'd smile at my suppos'd undoing, present your self no more before my Eyes 'Twas to perplex you that I feign'd this Passion.

I saw you had your Spies to watch for Mischief,

To George.

And poison all my Happiness with the Prince.—

And since I'm thought so Criminal, I'll take an everlasting Leave of you

To the Prince.

When I am dead, may she you honour next repay your Tenderness as I have done— But may she never meet my wretched Fate.

She snatches Olivia's Sword out.

Prince.

Hold, thou most valu'd Treasure of the World, or turn the pointed Weapon to my heart.

Mir.

No, I'm false; unworthy of your Love.

Geo.

Yes, by Heav'n. But thou hast Jilted him so handsomly, thou'st van∣quish'd all my Rage.

Mir.

Yes. I am false; false to this Gallant Man.

To George.

False to my Husband, to my Sexes Fame; for you more Charming, I alas, am perjur'd.

Prince.

Lejere! have I then injur'd thee?

Geo.

This is the Fatal Beauty, Sir, for whom so often you have seen me languish.

Prince.

Ah! woud'st thou see me on a Precipice, and not prevent my Danger?

Geo.

To mightier Friendship I cou'd all surrender, and silently have born her Perjuries; but those to you, awaken'd all my Rage; but she has out-trick'd me, and I beg her Pardon— And to secure her yours, have lov'd anew, and beg Protection in your Lodgings, Sir, for a young Maid whom I design to marry.

Prince.

Command my Life, my Fortune, and my Sword, for the unwilling Injury I have done thee— And is this the charming perjur'd Fair, Mirtilla?

Geo.

It is, Sir.

Prince.

Since it is possible that you cou'd cease to love this Gallant Man, whom I have heard with so much tender Passion tell your Loves, what sacred Vows had past, and what Endearments, how can I hope from thee a lasting Faith?— Yet on the Oaths that thou hast sworn to me— by all thy Hopes of Pardon for thy Perjuries, to ease my panting Heart— once speak the Truth— Didst thou not take this Woman for a Man?

Mir.

I did— and were she so, I wou'd with Pride own all the Vows I've broke.

Prince.

Why this is fair— and tho' I buy this Knowledge at the vast Price of all my Repose; yet I must own, 'tis a better Bargain then chaff'ring of a Heart for feign'd Embraces— Thou hast undone me— yet must have my Friendship; and 'twill be still some Ease in this Extream, to see thee yet repent, and love Lejere.

Mir.

No, Sir, this Beauty must be first declining, to make me take up with a former Lover.

Geo.

No, Sir, I have dispos'd my Heart another way; and the first know∣ledge of her Falshood cur'd me: Her Marriage I forgave— that thing of form — But never cou'd her Fondness to this Youth.

Prince.

Who's this Lady, Sir, whose Pardon I must beg?

Geo.

My Sister, Sir, who I disguis'd on purpose to be a Guard to this suspected Fair One.

Enter Welborn.

Wel.

Ha! she's there!

Now every Feature points me out my Conqueress. — Nay start not— I have found Thee, thou malicious Charmer, to bring me so near to Bliss, and not afford me one kind hint.

Oliv.

And are not you a very dull Fellow, that lov'd and long'd, and had the Maid so near you, and yet needed a Hint.

Wel.

Nay, if you conceal'd your precious Talent, how shou'd it profit any Body?

Oliv.

Conceal'd it?— No, Faith, I made a very fair Tender; but you refus'd it, as not being Currant Coin.

Wel.

But if you most feloniously, and unlawfully deface our Sovereign's Image, so as it may be as soon taken for the Grand Signior's, I may suspect the Metal too.

Oliv.

What say you if I tender it before these lawful Witnesses?

Wel.

I'll take it for good Payment— I Charles Wellborn—

Oliv.

Ha, Welborn!

Aside.

Wel.

Take thee— whom?— Gad if the Parson of the Parish knew your Name no better than I— 'twill be but a blind Bargain.

Geo.

Olivia, Marteen—

Wel.

My destin'd Wife?

Geo.

The very same: Have you the Parson ready?

Wel.

He waits in my Chamber.

Oliv.

Madam, I beg you'll lend me something more becoming my Sex.

Mir.

Manage will furnish you from my Wardrobe.

Exit Olivia.

Enter Teresia.

Geo

And see my good Genius appears too.

Tere.

See, Sir, I am resolv'd to be welcome to your Arms; look here are the Writings of the Estate my Grandfather left me, and here's Three thou∣sand Pound my Grandmother has settl'd on me, upon her Marriage with you.

Gives him the Writings.

Geo.

And here's my Father's Estate settled on me — Come let's put them together— and go in, and let the Parson do as much for us.

Puts 'em in her Case.

Tere.

But have you very well considered this Matter?

Geo.

Teresia, we'll do like most Couples, marry first, and consider after∣wards—

Leads her in

Enter a Footman.

Footm.

Sir, Here's Sir Merlin, with a Lady mask'd, wou'd speak with you.

Wel.

Carry 'em into the Dining-Room, I'll wait on 'em anon.

Exeunt Omnes.

SCENE, my Lady Youthly's. Discovers Her, and Lettice dressing her.

L. You.

Hold the Glass higher, Lettice; Is not this Tour too brown? — Methinks it does not give a youthful Ayre to my Face.

Lett.

That's not in Nature.

L. You.

Like Nature! Ay, but Nature's self wants Art, nor does this Fontange suit with my Complexion— Put on a little more Red, Lettice, on my Cheeks, and Lips.

She does so.

Lett.

Ay, for they are but a little too much upon the Coventry Blue — This Tour must come more forward, Madam, to hide the Wrinkles at the corners of your Eyes —

Pulls it.

L. You.

Ay, Lettice, but there are others, that neither Tours, nor Paint, nor Patches will hide, I fe••r — Yet altogether, Lettice —

Puts on her Spectacles, and looks in the Glass.

Enter Sir Rowland.

Sir Row.

What, no Bride yet, nor Bridegroom!

L. You.

Ay, what can be the Meaning of this?

Sir Row.

But Teresia, Madam, where can she be gadding?

L. You.

Why Lettice tells me, She went to buy some Trifles to adorn her this. Night — Her Governante is with her, and my Steward.

Enter Mr. Twang.

Twang, Alas, what pity 'tis; the Supper is quite spoil'd, and no Bride∣groom come!

(A Noise of Hallowing without, and Musick.) Enter Lady Blunder.

L. Blun.

Bless us! Here's a whole Regiment of Liveries, Coaches, and Flambeau's, at the Door! The Fops of the Town have heard of a Wed∣ding, and are come in Masquerade.

Enter Musick playing; after them, Prince Frederick leading Mirtilla, George leading Teresia; Sir Merlin, Diana, Mrs. Manage, Brittoon, Pages, and Footmen, all in Masquerade. Sir Morgan comes in, all in Mourning; Wel∣born, and Olivia.

Sir Mer.

Hearing of a high Wedding, Sir, we made bold (as the Saying is) to give you Joy. Sir, Are not you the Bridegroom?

Tere.

Where's your Bride, Sir? Ha! ha! ha!

Sir Mer.

Ay, ay, where's your Bride?

Sir Row.

What's that to you, Sir, Coxcomb?

Sir Mir.

Hum— How the Devil came he to know me now? — Is this Reverend Gentlewoman your Lady, Sir?

Sir Row.

Ounds, they come to mock us! — Hark ye, hark ye Taw∣drums, if you are Men, shew your Faces; if Apes, play over your Monkey-Tricks, and be gone, d'ye hear? — We are not at leisure for Fooling.

Geo.

Be but at leisure, Sir, to pardon

(George kneels)

this one Disobe∣dience of my Life, and all the rest I'll dedicate to please and humour you. Sir, I am marry'd.

Pulls off his Mask.

Sir Row.

What the Devil's that to me, Sir.

Geo.

Do not you know me, Sir?

Sir Row.

No, Sir, nor don't care to know any such slaunting Coxcombs.

Geo.

Look on me, Sir.

Looks on him, knows him, goes away, and returns.

Sir Row.

Hum, hum, hum!—

Tere.

It is your Son, Sir, your darling Son, who has sav'd your Life from Insolence?

Sir Row.

Hum — Teresia!

L. You.

How, Teresia! what robb'd me of my intended Husband? Oh undone! undone!

Falls into a Chair.

Sir Row.

And hast thou after all, served me such a Rogne's Trick, thou un∣gracious Varlet? What Cuckold thine own Father!

Geo.

Oh do not frown, I canno•• bear your Anger! Here will I hang for ever till you Pardon me.

Clasps his Knees.

Sir Row.

Look — look — now cannot I be angry with the good-natur'd young Rogue

Weeps.

Well George — But hark ye, Sirrah, this is a damn'd Trick of yours.

Geo.

Sir, I found my Youth was fitter for her than your Age, and you'll be as fond of a Grand-Child of my begetting, as you would of a Son of another Man's, perhaps.

Sir Row.

Thour't in the Right on't.

Sir Mer.

Ha! Is Monsieur Lejere then my Brother George?

Geo.

Sir, Here's another Couple wants your Pardon; my Brother Merlin, and my Lady Diana.

La. Blun.

Diana! what Sir Harry Modish's Mistress?

Dia.

Yes, he pawn'd me at the Basset-Table; and, in Revenge, I resolv'd to marry the next Man of Fortune I met with.

Sir Row.

The Fool had more Wit then I thought he had; for which I'll give him a Thousand Pound a Year.

Geo.

I humbly thank you, Sir.

Mirt.

Pray, Melancholy Sir, who are you in Mourning for?

Sir Morg.

Alas! Madam, for a Person of Quality that was my Wife; but rest her Soul, she's burnt

Weeps.

And I shall never see any thing again like her.

Mirt.

No! What think you of this Face, Sir.

Sir Morg.

As Gad shall sa' me, as like as if the same.

La. Blun.

In troth, and so she is.

Prince.

'Tis true, she was once your Wife; but I have preserv'd her from the Flames, and I have most Right to her.

Sir Morg.

That's a hard Case, Sir, that a Man must lose his Wife, because another has more Right to her than himself; Is that Law, Sir?

Prince.

Lover's Law, Sir.

La. Blun.

Ay, ay, Son, 'tis the Fashion to marry one Week, and separate the next: I'll set you a President for it my self.

In this time Welborn kneels with Olivia; Sir Rowland takes 'em up, and kisses 'em.

Sir Morg.

Nay, if it be the Fashion, I'll e'en into the Country, and be mer∣ry with my Tenants, and Hawk, and Hunt, and Horse-match.

Prince.

But now, Sir, I'll resign my Right to you, and content my self with the Honour to have preserv'd her from the Fire.

Prince delivers Mirtilla to Sir Morgan, who receives her.

Sir Morg.

As gad shall sa'me, Sir, you're a civil Person; and now I find you can endure a Woman, Sir, I'll give you leave to visit her.

Sir Row.

Well, since we're all agreed, and that the Fiddles are here, adsnigs we'll have a Dance, Sweet-heart, tho' thou hast out-witted me.

Takes Teresia, George takes Lady Youthly, &c. After the Dance, Lady Youthly weeps.

Geo.

VVhat, weeping yet? Here, Mr. Twang, take the Lady to your Care; in these Cases, there's nothing like the Consolation of your young Chaplain.

The Widow, with young Jointure, and old Face, Affected Mien, and Amorous Grimace, Ʋses to fall to th' younger Brother's share; But I by Fortune, and Industrious Care, Have get one that's Rich, Witty, Young, and Fair.