Text of the Play

Frontmatter | Act I | Act II | Act III | Act IV | Act V

Tunbridge-Walks
OR, THE
Yeoman of Kent:
A
Comedy.

As it is Acted at the
THEATRE ROYAL
By Her Majesty’s Servants.

By the Authour of the Humour o’ the Age.
Thomas Baker.

-------------------------- Ridentem dicere verum
Quid vetat? Horat.

LONDON:
Printed for Bernard Lintott, at the Middle Temple-Gate,
Fleetstreet.  MDCCIII.

The Dedication

To the Right Honourable
John How, Esq:
&c.

SIR,

I Must own, that ’tis more the Result of Affection than Opinion, makes me so Solicitous to continue the Reputation of this Comedy, by putting it under the Protection of a Patron, whose Character can alone be both it’s Honour, and Defence.

I was soon determin’d there to Offer it, where I cou’d  at once Satisfie my Ambition, Secure my Hopes, and Pay the Gratitude which I Owe as an Englishman;  for ’tis from the happy Scene of our Affairs, that any can think, or be Diverted with that Ease the Town was pleased to shew at the Representation of this Play; the Success of which I truly Ascribe more to the Justness of the Action, and Favour of the Audience, than either Turn of Plot, or Correctness of Style. I am sensible it may want Support, therefore I presume to Inscribe your Great Name in the Front, which will not only Defend, but Perpetuate it; for no Age will ever forget, how Brave an Assertor of England’s Interest and Liberty you have been; Neglected your own Ease by a constant Attendance in Parliament, Oppos’d all the Grievances that often Incroach’d upon the People, and rather Chose to be Distinguish’d than Dignify’d.

’Twas you, SIR, That kept alive the Warlike Genius of the Nation, and was the chiefest Advocate of her Bravest Sons, against Starving and Oppression: ’Twas from your Care and Humanity in Procuring the Support of Half-Pay, that those Gentlemen, who are now not only Defending England, but Saving Europe, Sunk not under the Misery of Want, and the Envy of those who hated such Inimitable Courage; but how agreeable a Theme must it be to Contemplate the Happy Change; Such a Soveraign, So Glorious a Cause, and our Rewards so Honourably and Justly Secur’d, What may we not Hope from English Valour so Encourag’d, when we have seen such Instances of it’s Force in Spight of all Depressions?

From the Successes of the last Campaign, may we not justly Expect, That in After-Times, the Annals of this Seventeenth Century will begin with the Fame the Fifteenth Concluded; and when Parallels shall be Drawn of the Two Glorious Female Reigns, tho’ Eliza was Numerous in her Councils, Anna is Greater in her Few. That I Live under the Easie Happy Influences of this present Ministry, of which You are a Principal Part, is my Satisfaction; but that you will Accept this Proof of my Esteem, will be my Lasting Honour, in giving me Opportunity to tell Ages to come, that I am,

                                    SIR,

                                                Your most Humble,
                                                            most Devoted,
                                                and most Obedient Servant.

TO THE
 AUTHOR
 OF
  TUNBRIDGE-WALKS.

By C.W.Esq;

’Tis hard to please, in such a Carping Age,
When Criticks with such Spleen, Invest the Stage,
But suddain Death’s the Fate of Modern Plays,
For few we see, are Born to Length of Days;
And yet the Searchers say, ’Tis rarely seen
Amongst the Dead, that any fell by Spleen;
Many they find, were by the Poets slain,
The dull Pretenders, in a Scribling Vein,
Set up for Comedy, with little Wit,
Borrow a Plot, and when the Play is Writ,
They leave it Starveing in an empty Pit.
Your better Care, has caus’d a better Fate,
Your Yeoman’s Life, is of a longer Date.
It shews us Humour, and an easie Plot,
(Which in the Plays deceas’d, was oft forgot)
No Smutty Jests, but Wit without Offence,
(For with Ill-Manners, Wit grows Impudence.)
You’re not to Blame, if Envious Fools will find
Scandal, and Lewdness, which were n’er design’d:
Your Play Instructs us too; That we beware,
That Riches are not made, our only Care,
Since Wit and Breeding, serve to gain the Fair.

TO THE
AUTHOR
OF THE
YEOMAN of KENT.

Permit my Friendship, my Defects I know,
Nor can my Sense give your’s the Praises due;
Yet when both Tongues and Pens advance your Name,
Can a Friend Offer nothing to your Fame?
The Stage her Skill and Gratitude has shown;
But from the Closet Springs the True Renown.
Applause is Vain, which Action only gives,
’Tis by the Reading Part a good Play lives:
Grimace, or Comic Tone, may flash the Ear,
Solid Wit only will Inspection bear—
The Press Establishes the Poet’s Character.
With how much Spirit, Strength and Skill you Write,
Such easie Language, such Command of Wit;
With so much Sweetness every Speech abounds,
The Humour Heals, where e’re the Satyr Wounds.
From whence can all this Wit and Fancy flow?
From Nature—What cou’d your green Studies know,
Some Toil whole Ages for what’s Born with you.
No Time, Records, since Poetry began,
So Ripe a Genius in so Young a Man.
Apollo,both Surpriz’d and Pleased, looks down;
Go on, says he, The Bays thy Temples Crown,
My Youngest, my Renown’d, my Fav’rite Son.

                                                CHARLES VAUGHAN

TO THE
AUTHOR
OF THE
HUMOUR of the AGE;
On his Play Call’d,
TUNBRIDGE-WALKS.

By an unknown Hand.

Then we may hope there will agen appear,
Humour and Wit on th’ English Theatre,
Unborrow’d from the French; For to our Shame,
Our Comedy of late from Gallia came:           
Our Heroes learnt from theirs the Art of fighting,
Our Poets too have mimick’d theirs in writing;
And by Translation strove to build their Fame,
Barren of Mother-Wit, and of Invention Lame.
But you, Auspicious Youth, have now begun
To make old English Wit in English Channels run.
You think it needless over Sea to roam,
In search of Knaves and Fools, with whom we’re stock’d at home.
Let such alone fell your Poetick-Rage,
And as you scourge the Vices of the Age,
Retrieve the drooping Honour of the Stage.

Prologue.

Spoken by Mr. Pinkethman.

You dreadful Sons of War, who hither come,
To fright fair Maids in Masks, and Storm their Boom;
You soft Sirs, who at home Indulge your Ease,
And hate French Bullets worse than French Disease;
You Courtiers, who in Wit, and Judgment grow,
For where the Money Ebbs, the Wit shou’d Flow;
And you Citts, who so brisk, and plump appear,
Fatn’d with good Quest-Ale, and Christmas Cheer;
The Poet by me, Envoy, here to Day,
Welcomes you to a pleasant, airy Play:
The Comick Writer still Supports our Stage,
We live by the Good-Nature of the Age.
Let others be with Tragick Lawrel’s Crown’d,
Where undisturb’d the Heroe struts around,
And Empty Boxes Eccho to the Sound.
Plays are design’d for Mirth, to make us glad,
Damn’d Fortune’s Plagues too often prove us sad;
Debts, Judgments, and a Bayliff at the Door,
Or cruel Sempstresses, when Love boils o’re:
But tho’ to teaze us, more such Plagues combine,
All are dispers’d with Humour, Wit, and Wine.
This Night our Author to divert your Spleen,
’Mongst Crowds o’ Fools at Tunbridge lays his Scene;
Where Beaus, and City Wives in Medly come,
The Brisk Gallant supplies the Husband’s room,
Whilst he, Dear, harmless Cuckold, packs up Goods at home.
            Some Plot he has, some Conversation too,
            Some Characters found out, he thinks are new,
            But with what Skill they’re Drawn, he leaves to you.
            A Nice built Play, he begs you’l not expect,
            Young Poets have the Fire, Old Authors are Correct.
            To Humour chiefly, he’d his Genius bend,
            On your Judicious Smiles his hopes depend,
            And as he still Writes on, he’ll strive to mend.

EPILOGUE.

By a Friend.
Design’d for the Captain.

At Tunbridge I have made my first Campaign,
Nor have I wore these borrow’d Plumes in vain,
Since my Red-Coat has helpt me to a Spouse,
Who has, (I thank her) brought me, - - - ne’re a Souse.
The World’s a Cheat, most Men Disguise’d appear,
And fain wou’d seem to be, what least they are.
The Out-side’s all, Virtue’s an empty Name,
That Cloaks the subtle Knave, and willing Dame.
Each Prostitute, worn out with frequent Sinning,
Wou’d still persuade you, ’tis her first Beginning.
Amongst you well-dress’d poweder’d Sparks that Sit,
The Awful Judges of the Poet’s Wit,
Here’s some perhaps my Character wou’d Hit;
Who think it Safer, here at home to fall
By Ladies Eyes, than by a Cannon Ball:
But as the Painter, so the Poet too,
What shou’d be hid, Screens from too Nice a view;
And when some Stroaks have the Design exprest,
Chuses to draw a Shadow o’re the rest.

Dramatis Personæ.

Singers, Dancers, and other Attendants.

The SCENE, TUNBRIDGE.

Time, Twelve Hours.

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TUNBRIDGE-WALKS:
OR, THE
Yeoman of Kent.

ACT I. SCENE I.
A Common Room in a Lodging-House.

Reynard and Loveworth meeting.

[1.1] Loveworth. Frank Reynard!

[1.2] Reynard. Ned Loveworth! Slave to London, and Darling of the fair Sex, left his Mistress, his Bottle, and his Friend, to visit the Country.

[1.3] Loveworth. To the Pleasures of the Town I own my self devoted, but London now is a perfect Solitude, Business and Diversion have dispers’d every Body -Lawyers are gone their Circuits to plague the poor Country People—Tradesman to Cheat at Fairs—Courtiers to avoid their Creditors, and Younger Brothers to Spunge a Month with their Relations; no Plays, no Park, no Intreagues, not a Cully left to keep Wenching in Countenance; so that the poor Women o’ the Town are forc’d to live virtuously in spight of Nature; But Tunbridge I suppose is the Seat of Pleasure; Prithee, what Company does the Place afford?

[1.4] Reynard. Like most publick Assemblies, a Medly of all sorts, Fops majestick and diminutive, from the long flaxen Wig with a splendid Equipage, to the Merchant’s Spruce Prentice that’s always mighty neat about the Legs; Squires come to Court some fine Town-Lady, and Town-Sparks to pick up a Russet-Gown; for the Women here are wild Country-Ladies, with ruddy Cheeks like a Sevil- Orange, that gape, stare, scamper, and are brought hither to be Diciplin’d; Fat City-Ladies with tawdry Atlasses, in Defiance of the Act of Parliament; and slender Court-Ladies, with French Scarffs, French Aprons, French Night-Cloaths, and French Complexions.

[1.5] Loveworth. But what are the chief Diversions here?

[1.6] Reynard. Each to his Inclination—Beaus Raffle and Dance—Citts play at Nine-Pins, Bowls, and Backgammon—Rakes scoure the Walks, Bully the Shop-keepers, and beat the Fiddlers – Men of Wit rally over Claret, and Fools get to the Royal-Oak Lottery, where you may lose Fifty Guinea’s in a Moment, have a Crown return’d you for Coach-hire, a Glass of Wine, and a hearty welcome—In short, ’tis a Place wholly dedicated to Freedom, no Distinction, either of Quality or Estate, but ev’ry Man that appears well Converses with the best.

[1.7] Loveworth. But who is the top Beauty of the Wells, the grand Tost of the Men, and Envy of the Women?

[1.8] Reynard. Ev’ry one wou’d be so: But your old Mistress Hillaria still bears the Crowd; her Wit and Beauty support each other, and her Dress and Conversation are ev’ry Day so prettily vary’d, she always appears new: The Women love her Company, but hate her Pow’r, and the Beaus flutter about her in all the aiery Postures of French Gallantry, whom she still keeps off with her easie Raillery, and not one dares engage her.

[1.9] Loveworth. If she has so many new Sparks, she’ll look but coldly on an old Pretender; but if she’s so severe upon the Beaus, I wonder they don’t appear Dash’d, and retire.

[1.10] Reynard. Not at all; because their Vanity construes every thing to their own Advantage: and they take Raillery from a Lady to be as great a mark of Esteem, as they think a Lampoon is of being considerable enough to be taken notice of—I  always observe, That men of the greatest Sense are most doubtful of their own Merit; but a Fool, that has Assurance enough to support his Folly, thinks he has Wit enough to carry him thro’ the World—But here comes old Woodcock, the Yeoman o’Kent, that’s half Farmer, and half Gentleman; his Horses go to Plow all the Week, and are put into the Coach o’Sunday; he has brought his Daughter hither, a Lady ev’ry way agreeable; but her Father is so great a Humorist, that notwithstanding he allows her all the Gaiety of Body, he obliges her to the Ancient Custom of wearing a High-Crown-Hat; to her I intend my Addresses, but would first Sound his Inclinations; for when an old Fellow knows he has a handsome Daughter, and can give her a good Fortune, he is generally very capricious in the disposing of her.

Enter Woodcock.

Good morrow, Mr. Woodcock; you are exercising your self after the Waters, I see.

[1.11] Woodcock. You are mistaken Mr. Reynard; we Country Gentlemen live honestly, and have no occasion to scoure our Vessels.

[1.12] Loveworth. But Tunbridge Waters, Sir, have another Virtue; they help the Understanding and quicken the Wit, and that, you Country Gentlemen, may have occasion for.

[1.13] Woodcock. When I find, Sir, they have had better effect upon you Londiners, perhaps I may try ’em – Look you, Gentlemen, we in the Country don’t pretend to Raillery; If we have Wit enough to keep our Chickens from the Kites, and our Wives, and Daughters, from your ravenous Town-Sparks, we neither Envy your flashy Air, nor desire to be thought Weathercocks.

[1.14] Reynard. But they say, Sir, you are blest in a Daughter, that’s Beauteous to Admiration, your only Child, and Heiress to your Estate; and notwithstanding your Aversion to the Town, I suppose you design her for some very fine Gentleman.

[1.15] Woodcock. No, no, Mr. Reynard; Your Modern fine Gentleman is too much a Narcissus to value a Wife; he Marries only to repair his Estate, never appears abroad with her after the first Month, nor Lies with her but in Lent, for Mortification—the Prodigal Citt too takes a Wife only for Conveniency to look after his Shop, while he goes a Stock Jobbing; grows Jealous from his own Imperfections, Swears she keeps Company with my Lord such a one, Sues out a Divorce right or wrong, and turns her out of Doors; then Spends her Fortune upon some Covent-Garden Miss, and like the rest of your Whoring Citizens, pretends he’s Ptysichy, and is forc’d to lie out of Town ev’ry Night—No Londiner shall either ruin my Daughter, or wast my Estate—If he be a Gamester ’tis rattl’d away in two Nights—If a lewd Fellow, ’tis divided into Settlements—If a Nice Fop, then my Cherry-Trees are cut down to make Terras-Walks, my Ancient Mannor-House, that’s noted for good Eating, demolish’d to Build up a Modern Kickshaw, like my Lord Courtair’s Seat about a Mile off, with Sashes, Pictures, and China; but never any Victuals drest in the House, for fear the Smoak of the Chimny should Sully the Nice Furniture – Look ye, Mr. Reynard, The Woodcocks of Kent are an Ancient Family, and were the first that oppos’d William the Conquerour; therefore I’le have my Name kept up; and to Marry my Daughter to a Beau, with Spindle Shanks, a small Shape, and a long, meagre Face, I’m sure is’nt the way to encrease her Family.

[1.16] Reynard. So that instead of providing her a Gentleman, you’d Sacrifice her to a Brute; who has neither Manners enough to be thought Rational, Education enough for a Justice of Peace, nor Wit enough to distinguish fine Conversation from the yelping of Dogs; Hunts all the Morning, Topes all the Afternoon, and then goes lovingly Drunk to Bed to this Wife.

[1.17] Woodcock. And pray, what are your Town Diversions?—To hear a parcel of Italian Eunuchs, like so many Cats, squall out somewhat you don’t understand—The Song of my Lady’s Birth-Day, by an honest Farmer, and a merry Jig by a Country-Wench that has Humour in her Buttocks, is worth Forty on’t; Your Plays, your Park, and all your Town Diversions together, don’t afford half so substantial a Joy as going home throughly wet and dirty after a fatiguing Fox Chace, and Shifting one’s self by a good Fire—Neither are we Country-Gentlemen such Ninnies as you make us; we have good Estates, therefore want not the Knavery, and Cunning of the Town; but we are Loyal Subjects, true Friends, and never scruple to take our Bottle, because we are guilty of nothing which we are afraid of discovering in our Cups—To such a Man I’de marry my Daughter; One who has Humanity enough to know how to use a Woman well, and loves the Country well enough to live in’t, and manage his Estate himself, without trusting it to a rascally Steward, who will ruin my Family to raise his own.

[1.18] Loveworth. But, who have we here?

Enter Squib.

[1.19] Reynard. Captain Squib?

[1.20] Squib. Gentlemen, I kiss your Footsteps.

[1.21] Loveworth. But how now, Squib? How long hast thou been entitled to Scarlet? Prithee, what Regiment has the Honour of thy Protection?

[1.22] Squib. Why truly, Gentlemen, Finding how irresistable a Red Coat is among the Ladies, I have lately made Interest to be an Officer in the City Train-Bands – When I march through Cheapside on a Training-Day, How the Citizens Wives stare after me—There’s an Air, says one; There’s a Face, says another; There are Legs, says a Third; Sigh, then go to Bed, and Cuckold their Husbands by the Force of Imagination.

[1.23] Reynard. But wou’dn’t it gain you more Reputation, Captain, to make a Campaigne? There you might serve your Country, and justly merit the Title of an Officer.

[1.24] Squib. No, no, Mr. Reynard, ’tis only for your swarthy ill look’d Rogues to go to the War; we Spruce Officers stay at home to guard the Ladies, Fight Mock-Sieges upon Bunhill, and Storm the Outworks of a Ven’son Pasty: Besides, Sir, I have an Estate, therefore need not put the fair Sex into Doubts, and Fears, by hazarding my Person.

[1.25] Loveworth. But if you don’t serve one Compaign, How will it appear to the World you are a Man of Courage?

[1.26] Squib. That Mr. Loveworth is evident enough at home; For there’s seldom a day, but I have occasion to draw my Sword either in the Pit, the Side-Box, or some publick Coffee-House.

[1.27] Loveworth. If you are so desperate, Captain, People will be afraid of keeping you Company.

[1.28] Squib. You are mistaken, Sir; I’me one of the well-bred Officers that Challenge no Man; and if any Man challenges me, [aside.] I send my Lieutenant to meet him—But to show you I have Generosity as well as Courage, I quarrell’d yesterday with a Gentleman treading on my Toe, which you know is an unpardonable Affront in this honourable Age; but at the Intercession of some particular Friends, Pardon begg’d, and a Supper given, I was prevail’d upon to put it up—Ha! My Yeoman o’ Kent, Honest Hop-Sack and Cherry-Tree, How does thy handsome Daughter, what think you of me for a Son-in-Law?

[1.29] Woodcock. Thee—Dost think I’ll marry her to a Pot-Gun, a Fop Militia Captain; who, instead of having Courage to stand an Enemy, flies at a Show’r of Rain: She should sooner have a common Trooper, that’s a Man of Mettle, and follow the Camp.

[1.30] Squib. Very blunt, and ill-bred; like a true Country Put, that was Conceiv’d under a Hedge, litter’d in a Barn, and brought up in a Hog-Stye—Look you, old Gentleman, If your Daughter falls in Love with me, as ’tis ten to one but ev’ry Woman does; tell her, she may Sigh her self into the Green-Sickness, Eat Oatmeal, Chalk, Coals, Candles, and die o’ the Pip.

Enter Maiden.

[1.31] Maiden. Are you for the Walks, Gentlemen?

[1.32] Reynard. Ay, But Mr. Maiden, You are very late to Day, the Ladies will be all there before you.

[1.33] Maiden. Why really, Sir, I us’d to be dress’d sooner; but I have been mightily out of Order this Morning with the Vapours, and the Chollick, and was forc’d to stay to Eat a little Chicken Broth – Pray, Gentlemen, What new Company have we here? They say, There’s a world of Quality come down this Week.

[1.34] Woodcock. Quality! What then! They’ll neither furnish the Wells with more Wit, nor more Money.

[1.35] Maiden. But the Laidies, Sir, always respect People of Rank—They say, Mr. Woodcock, You have a fine Daughter to dispose of here; I design to make her some Overtures.

[1.36] Woodcock. You—Thou Effeminate Coxcomb, Dost think she’ll like one of her own Sex—[Aside.] D’slife, all the Fops in this Place have got a Notion of my Daughter; I shall have ’em Bait her, as a parcel of Hounds do a young Leveret. I’ll go find her out, make her pack up her Auls, and we’ll be gone to morrow Morning.

                                                                                                                        [Exit.

[1.37] Loveworth. Prithee, Frank, Let’s to the Coffee-House, and leave these Fools together.

[1.38] Reynard. I’ll step but to my Chamber, and follow you instantly.

                                                                                                 [Exeunt differently

[1.39] Squib. Well, Friend, and what Accomplishments d’you pretend to, with the Ladies?

[1.40] Maiden. Why, I can Sing, and Dance, and play upon the Guittar; make Wax-work and Fillagree, and Paint upon Glass. Besides, I can dress a Lady up a Head upon Occasion, for I was put Prentice to a Millener once, only a Gentleman took a fancy to me, and left me an Estate; but that’s no Novelty, for abundance of People now-a-days take a fancy to a handsome young Fellow.

[1.41] Squib. And wou’d Sooth the Women with these Fooleries? they hate a Nice Fop, that’s so much an Image of themselves; and love a robust Masculine Fellow, that will kiss ’em, tumble ’em, and towze ’em about.

[1.42] Maiden. [Aside.] Poor silly Creature; Lard; Does he think fine Ladies will suffer themselves to be us’d like Oyster Women—Sir, I hope, I hav’n’t study’d the Ladies so long, not to know how to Address ’em; neither have I taken so much pains to polish my self to be rejected for you: Therefore you may give your self what rough Airs you please, and yet not succeed half so well as those that have a little more Modesty.

[1.43] Squib. Modesty—Here’s a Fellow now—Prithee, What does Modesty signifie?  Did it ever get a Lover a Maidenhead, a Lawyer a Cause, or a Courtier a Place—But to pretend to Modesty in this Age; Why the Women have laid it aside now, and are resolv’d, A-la-mode en France, to appear bare-neck’d, gallop without Stays, drink their Bottle, keep Fellows, and be out of Countenance at nothing;— Thank Heav’n, Modesty’s an Infamy my Family can ne’re be branded with; for all my Relations from the beginning, have been either Pimps, Poets, Attornies, Projectors, Stock-Jobbers, or Custom-House Officers—But you may e’en quit your Modesty, your Airs, and your Graces; for I resolve to ingross all the Ladies to my self; and if you dare meddle with one—

[1.44] Maiden. D’ you think I won’t talk to ’em, and give ’em Sweet-Meats?

[1.45] Squib. That I grant you; But if you offer Love to any thing that’s under Fifty, above the degree of a Chamber-Maid, and has a Nose on her Face, I’le cut your Throat—[Aside.] I may Hector this Fellow without danger.

[1.46] Maiden. As to that matter, Captain, we shall never quarrel; For if I can Raffle with the Ladies, Dance with them, and Walk with ’em in publick, I never desire any private Love-favours from ’em.

[1.47] Squib. Nay, Then gi’ me thy Hand, thus we agree the Point, and will assist each other.  I’ll recommend you for a Partner in Dancing; you shall commend me for a Lover to wait on ’em home.

[1.48] Maiden. With all my Heart.

[1.49] Squib. Come along, Frigid.                                                              [Exit.

[1.50] Maiden. Lard, What rude Monster is this? Sure something that come out of the Bear-Garden! But I’me glad we are Friends; for if he had drawn his Sword, I shou’d ha’ swounded away.                                                              [Exit.

Enter Hillaria, and Lucy.

[1.51] Hillaria. Lucy, See if the Ladies are ready for the Walks, and order a Coach to the Door—Well, This Tunbridge is the Joy of my Life; such Treating, Dancing, Serenading, Raffling, and Scandal, I cou’d die here—But let me see, what new Acquaintance have I made here—There’s Mrs. Goodfellow that makes so many great Suppers, I cou’d like her, but she Drinks so prodigiously hard, I can never hold out with her—Lady Bubble that’s perpetually at Cards, and always Loses, lends one Money, and has never Assurance to ask for’t again, I’ll be intimate there—Mrs. Smallware, the Tradesman’s Wife in the City; there I can have things upon Credit; and then Belinda, the Lady that lives in Kent, I’ll be very great with her, she’ll Invite me down for a whole Summer—I find every now and then I’me forc’d to pack together some new Intimates; for by that time I have liv’d a Year upon one Set, I run ’em out so much Money in treating my Visiters, keep such late Hours, and breed so many Differences in their Families, they are quite tir’d of me.

Enter Reynard.

[1.52] Reynard. So, Sister; you are in your Airs, I see, ready for the Company, mighty gay and splendid; Prithee how dost maintain they self so well without a Fortune?

[1.53] Hillaria. Tho’ I want a Fortune, Brother; Yet while there are Fools that have Money, and I have Wit and Assurance to manage ’em, I’ll wear the best Cloaths, Visit the greatest Quality, enjoy every Diversion, and Despise all that pretend to be better than my self.

[1.54] Reynard. But how do you insinuate your self to the World?

[1.55] Hillaria. As most Women that live by their Wits do; I praise ev’ry Body to their Face, and Mimick evry Body behind their Back; so that all Court my Favour, because they are afraid of being abus’d—By keeping a World of Company, appearing in all publick Places, and giving my self a Liberty of Railing, I have acquired the Character of a Judge—No Body dares buy a Suit of Cloaths without my Advice, for whatever I condemn is thought ungenteel; and half the Tradesmen in Town make me Presents to promote ’em Customers—I make Interest for the Players o’ Benefit Nights, so have the Liberty of the Box—Now and then introduce a poor Poet with a Dedication, to go to Snacks in the Reward—I live one Month with this Lady, a Month with that, Cheat at Cards for Pocket-Money; so make shift to rub through the World—But, how d’you manage your self, Brother? ’Tis more difficult for a Man to Spunge a Maintenance than a Woman; to be treated, presented, and addressed, you know is the Prerogative of our Sex.

[1.56] Reynard. Like a true Town-Spark; One day at Court, and the next in Jayl: I have generally some Money at command, but seldom any more at a time than what I have in my Pocket.

[1.57] Hillaria. Why truly, Brother, I believe most of you Wits do carry your whole Stock about you.

[1.58] Reynard. I always keep Company with those of the highest Rank, whom I find most easie to be bubbl’d: Now and then perhaps I get to the Groom-Porters, and lend a Nobleman Twenty Guinea’s upon a Push, to pay me Five advance the next Morning; and Courtiers punctually discharge what they lose at Gaming, tho’ they run in ev’ry Body’s Debt for Necessaries—But this Course of Life, Sister, is but for a Spurt; we must now think of settling our Condition; Our Family you know bears no common Fame, and our Education was the best; but our Parents, by supporting the Ancient English Hospitality, liv’d beyond their Estate, and left us to Traverse the World, therefore, whatever Offers you have, accept nothing below your self.

[1.59] Hillaria. No, Brother, I have a Soul too great to harbour any thing that’s mean; and if my Circumstances wou’d not Countenance my Character, before I’d condescend, like a decay’d Gentlewoman, to dress Heads, make Mantoes, teaze People with my Birth and Education, and my willingness to get a Livelihood in an honest way, I’de scorn the World, and with an undaunted Spirit, repeating some Heroick Strain, plunge a Dagger, and fancy my self an Actress in a Tragedy.

[1.60] Reynard. My own Sister to a Hair—But let this Maxim joyn your noble Spirit—Still preserve your Virtue; For if you part with that, you stain our Blood, and render your self below every Circumstance.

[1.61] Hillaria. You know, Brother, we are all Frail, and sometimes there’s no resisting the Charms of a well-dress’d Side-Box Beau; But if I shou’d make a Slip, this I’ll promise you, to keep a good Reputation, and that’s the most fashionable Virtue.

[1.62] Reynard. But of all your Lovers[,] whom are you most inclin’d to Marry?—There’s my Friend Loveworth, a Man of Sense and tolerable Estate.

[1.63] Hillaria. Good.

[1.64] Reynard. Then, Captain Squib, with a larger Estate, but a Fool.

[1.65] Hillaria. Better.

[1.66]Reynard. And then, the fine Mr. Maiden, who has a very great Estate, and is a prodigious Fool.

[1.67] Hillaria.  Best of all.

[1.68] Reynard. But cou’d you love a Fool, Sister?

[1.69] Hillaria. Love is a stupid Passion, that betrays the weakness of our Minds; who that has Reason wou’d sacrifice the Pride of Life to a momentary Joy? which ev’n in the Name of Marriages extinguishes; but a Man that wou’d maintain me in all the Pomp of Quality, to out-shine the Court; and be the Envy of the vying World, I swear, were he Old, Diseas’d, Perverse, were he any thing, I cou’d Love him, Caress him, and dote on him to Death.

[1.70] Reynard. My own Sister agen—For my part, I’me fix’d on Belinda, the Yeoman of Kent’s Daughter, and have luckily found out what sort of Man he’s resolv’d to Marry her to: I’ll first solicit the Lady; then, contrive how to win or deceive the Father: The Custom of this Place allows our Familiarity without being suspected for Relations, so that we may Subtily commend each other—To day we strike our Fortunes, for in so great a Crowd of Fools, ’tis hard, if we don’t find some Opportunity to Profit by our Wits.
                        Thus runs the World, one half the other Rules,}
                        The Wise are Workmen, and the weak are Tools,}

[1.71] Hillaria.     But yet the Greatest Wits are Women’s Fools.}

The End of the First Act

[back to top]

ACT II.
SCENE, The Walks.
Enter Hillaria and Belinda.

[2.1] Hillaria. I Wonder, Belinda, How a reasonable Soul, and a Genius for the World like you, can brook a Country-Life?

[2.2] Belinda. Custom, Hillaria, makes ev’ry thing familiar; and tho’ I hate the Country, I endeavour so much Philosophy to be easie in it: Indeed, my Father’s Intentions of settling me there wou’d try the utmost of my Temper.

[2.3] Hillaria. But I suppose you have too much of a modern Spirit to let his Will sway your Inclinations: Shou’d any old Father pretend to Associate me where I don’t like, I shou’d plainly desire him to leave Doting, or march into the other World; But sure my Parents were the civilest People; for after they had liv’d sparingly to encrease my Fortune, found they grew Old, and I began to grumble, they made their Will, left all to me, except Fifty Guinea’s to the Noncon-Preacher, and a few charitable Legacies I ne’re paid, and went off so sweetly, without so much as a Fit of Sickness to put one to Charges, and keep one in Doubt and Fears.

[2.4] Belinda. But what wou’d you Advise me to do, Hillaria? For my Father resolves to move home to morrow; where I shall be Coup’d up like a Turtle-Dove, that’s Melancholy without a Mate; and have not the least Prospect of any other Match than what’s first propos’d to him.

[2.5] Hillaria. Why, faith, e’en take the Advantage of this publick Place; Select one that looks most like a Man of Honour, strike up the Bargain while you stand still in a Country-Dance, and be tackt to him out ’o hand—What think you of Mr. Reynard? If I who have seen so many Men, and observ’d such Variety of Shapes, from Beau May-Pole to Beau Dapper, may judge of the Sex, I say Reynard’s a pretty Fellow.

[2.6] Belinda. Since you draw me into a Confession, Hillaria, I must own the same Opinion; Mr. Reynard was my Partner at the Bath last Year, and mention’d a Love there, which he has not since had an Opportunity to renew—But then, my Father; to be hated, turn’d out of Doors, and Disinherited!

[2.7] Hillaria. Never fear it—Indeed, when a Woman Disgraces her Family by a mean Passion, and runs away with a Fidler, a Barber, or a Taylor, ’tis fit she should be Discarded, and joyn in her Husband’s Drudgery all day for a little Love at Night: But if you Marry a Gentleman, and can look the World i’ the Face: perhaps the old Man’s testy for a Month; but then you put on a little Hypocritical Sorrow, down o’ your Knees, tell him you are sorry you shou’d Carnalize without his Consent, but ’tis what can’t be undone now—Nature Pleads, the old Fool Blesses you; then come Treats, Balls, fine Cloaths, all mighty well, and not a word o’ the Balcony.

[2.8] Belinda. Dear Hillaria! Let me intreat your Friendship; but you engage ev’ry Body, all Court you, and are uneasie without you; Prithee, What is it so bewitches ’em?

[2.9] Hillaria. Upon these Love-Occasions, I am mightily follow’d: For after I have persuaded a young Lady to run away with a handsome Fellow, I interceed with the Old Folks, and reconcile ’em, so that I oblige both sides; (Aside.) And often get a good Present by the Bargain—Then People are fond of a pretty fleering Air I have got; for you must know, this Age is mightily addicted to Self-Love; and the higher Esteem People have of their own Perfections, the more they Despise others: Therefore I please this Lady, by railing at that; and my self, by making a Jest of the whole World alternately—When I’me at Court, I ridicule the City-Wives, those over-dress’d Creatures, that stand gapeing six Hours at a Shop-Door, and the Aldermen’s Ladies, who by their Bulk, and manly Voice are taken for Hermaphrodites—When I’me in the City, I laugh at the Court-Ladies, their Gameing-Clubs, and Intreagues with Players, wearing D’Oyley Stuff-Suits for want of Money or Credit to buy better, and borrowing Jewels o’ Birth-Nights; and when I’me among People of true Merit, I make a Jest of both—To particular Families, I recommend my self by being throughly good Humour’d, and always conformable to what’s propos’d—One Lady loves her hot Tea, another cold Tea; I drink both—My Lady Figgit’s for a Fidddle, and a Country-Dance, so am I—Mrs. Townly loves a Hackney-Coach, sending for Fellows out o’ Chocolate-Houses, Coquetting half an Hour in a Mask, and make the Fools treat us without so much as the Favour of seeing our Faces; Then from India-House to India-House leaving Letters, tumbling Goods, Buying one China-Cup, and Stealing half a Dozen; And at my Lady Rampant’s in Essex, they are for clambering over Hedges, Riding in Hay-Carts, Hot cockles, and Blind-Man’s Buff—I can Romp as well as the best of them—Then I am mighty happy in keeping a Secret; so that if a Merchant’s Wife has a mind to make merry when her Husband’s out of Town, to be sure I’me sent for—But here comes the He-things.
Enter Reynard and Loveworth.

[2.10] Reynard. Your Servant, Ladies; how goes Scandal at the Wells to day? What fine Lady had an Intreague last Night, which the rest out of Envy have reported?

[2.11] Hillaria. Rather, Sir; What Intreagues have your Vanities boasted of, which neither your Persons, nor Accomplishments, had force to gain you?

[2.12] Loveworth. Real Intreagues, Madam, we never discover; and only talk of Favours in opposition to those Ladies, who pretend to a Crowd of Lovers, and yet value themselves in having Pow’r to resist ’em all.

[2.13] Belinda. A Woman, Sir, need not assume much Power to resist any thing she sees in your Sex; but we can’t blame the good Opinion you have of your selves, when we consider the weakness of your Judgments.

[2.14] Reynard. But if you Ladies did not desire a Conquest, Why d’yo take such Pains to adorn your selves? What are your high full Rumps, but to make you follow’d?—Your Fans in Winter, but to give Airs, and the various Disposition of your Curls, but Baits for so many Men?—Then there’s more Policy and Consultation us’d in placing your Patches to Advantage, than at a Council of War, in the disposing a whole Army.

[2.15] Hillaria. Pray, Mr. Reynard, Let not your Sex pretend to Satyrize the Women, ’till you are less Foppish, and affected your selves—What are your light Wigs, curl’d behind, but to hide your round-Shoulders, and set off your Wallnut Complexions; and your fine Sword-knots, but to tie the Hilt and the Scabbard together—But the surprizing Joy when two Fops meet in the Side-Box, tho’ they parted but two Minutes before, at a Chocolate-House; The Side-Bow, the Embrace; and the fulsome Trick you Men have got of Kissing one another. Then down you sit, and observe the Women—She’s well enough—says one, but they say she has been had—Mind how she Ogles us, says t’other, when they are a couple of wretched hatchet Fac’d things, that are Physical to look at ’em—Then, the Toss o’ the Head, the Airs o’ the Snuff-Box, and the Leer at an Actress on the Stage; and all the ridiculous Actions of a Monkey, or a Madman; but I think, they say most of you Beaus are craz’d; for taking such a prodigious deal o’ Snuff, it open’d your Heads so much, the Wind got in, and quite turn’d your Brains—And when any Expressions on the Stage are smart upon the Side-Boxes, how you force a Grin, and wou’d fain Laugh ’em off.

[2.16] Reynard. I find, Madam, we may Truce the Debate, and Unite our Forces; for I see Mr. Woodcock coming down the Hill, that’s Satyrical upon both Sexes.

[2.17] Belinda. My Father, Dear Hillaria; Lets avoid him.

[2.18] Reynard. We’ll step into a Raffling-shop, Madam.
                                                             [Exeunt Reynard. and Belinda.

[2.19] Loveworth. I suppose, Madam, by this time you are pretty well tir’d with Fops, and Fiddles; and like a Ship toss’d by Winds and Waves, may be glad to steer into the Harbour of Matrimony.

[2.20] Hillaria. Good Mr. Loveworth, don’t mention Marriage at Tunbridge; ’tis as much Laugh’d at as Honesty in the City: This is a Place of general Address, all Pleasure, and Liberty; and when we happen to see a Marry’d Couple dangle together like a Knife and a Fork, they are a Jest to the whole Walks.

[2.21] Loveworth. But Tunbridge, Madam, ought to distinguish Lovers, my Services bear a longer date, and therefore Merit more particular Notice.

[2.22] Hillaria. For which reason you might expect ’em slighted: Is there any thing more scandalous that an old Lover to our Sex, who are so fond of Novelties? But if after all your Solicitaitions, I were inclin’d to Article the Matter, you’d find me somewhat odd in my Proposals. For in the first place, When ever I Marry, I design to have it a mighty Secret, People seldom care to let the World know they have play’d the Fool; neither wou’d my Vanity lose the Serenades, the Treats, and Addresses a single State affords me—Then I’me for a Man in some Business, that I may have his Company at night, and yet not be troubl’d with his Impertinence all day; for sure nothing is so insipid as a Fop Husband, that stays at home with his Wife, takes the Air with his Wife, and shows his Fondness in ev’ry thing but what he shou’d—Then I resolve to have an absolute Sway; for, I find by Experience, no State, either publick or private, prospers so well as under the Government of a Woman; therefore I forbid all Toasting Clubs, where you drink Prosperity to your Mistresses, and Confusion to your Wives, quarrel about the Constancy of some common Trull, and break one anothers Heads to prove the Emptiness of your Argument—No Conversation with Wits, where you must treat half the Company; nor Associating with Men of Quality, where you are sure neither to improve your Understanding nor gain a Friend—Then I’le always be Consulted in State-Affairs; for ‘tis a mighty Credit to our Sex to have an Ascendant over them that Biass the whole Nation—And cou’d you, Sir, perform all this for me?

[2.23]Loveworth. All, Ten times more; You shall do what you please, govern how you please, be sole Mistress of me, your self, and my Estate.

[2.24]Hillaria. Then let me tell you, I dissembl’d all this while only to try your Temper, and now find you a down-right Ass—What! Be subject to your Wife; let a Woman rule you: Why, the meerest Coward in Nature has Courage enough to Domineer over his Wife—I see, Sir, you are not for my purpose, yet I’le give you this Advice, The next Lady you Address, neither Fawn, nor Flatter, but use a generous Courtship, and Assert the Prerogative of your Sex; for ’tis the worst Air you can have with us to be found any ways deficient in a true Man-like Character—But here come the Canterbury Ladies, Mrs. Goodfellow, that’s as big as the Cathedral, and enough to scorch a Body with her fiery Complexion; and her lean, scragged Neice Penelope, that fancies her self a mighty fine Creature, and has more Fantastick Airs than the Pewterer’s Wife in Bedlam.

Enter Mrs. Goodfellow, and Penelope.

[2.25]Goodfellow. Dear Hillaria, I am glad we ha’ met you, these Men are so troublesome and dull, we have wanted your Company mightily to divert us.

[2.26]Penelope. (Aside.) These old Women affect so much Wisdom in despising Lovers, because they are Conscious what’s said to ’em can’t be in earnest—Methinks, Madam, ‘tis very pleasant to have the Beaus Buz about one, Talk to one, and give one Things; it shows one’s pretty.

[2.27]Goodfellow. You are young, Neice, and love to be flatter’d; when you come to my years, and have a true Sense of things, your Vanity will wear off, and you’ll find more substantial Joys in a Bottle, and a She-Friend; For my part, I never mind the Men; I have Three hundred a Year, and am resolv’d to live single, and enjoy it: Therefore I wou’d’nt have Lovers pretend to Conquer me, for I come out of Kent, and the Kentish People were never Conquer’d.

[2.28]Hillaria. Truly, Madam, I agree with you; I hate the Company of Fellows, where Custom forces on a Modesty Nature never meant us; There’s nothing like a Club of our own Sex, where we can be Frank and Free, Play our own Pranks, and Talk our own Talk.

[2.29]Penelope. (Aside.) Wou’d the rest of our Sex were of their Opinion, that I might have all the Men to my self.

[2.30]Goodfellow. But pray tell us, Hillaria, Who have you seen this morning?

[2.32]Hillaria. The usual Crowd—Sir Tiresome Crumpling, that old affected Fop, that has been the Jest of the place these fifty years; and the rest o’ the Fools that take pains to be Laugh’d at, cringing after a parcel of strange Trollops in Callicoe Gowns—Well, These late Mournings have been very happy for Women of no Fortunes, that have made a good figure in an old Sheet printed black and white—Then comes a knot of Jew Ladies, that have lately Bubbl’d their Parents out of a sum of Money by turning Christians, according to Act of Parliament; and have just as much Religion as some of our Christian Ladies, that spend half their Church-time in quarrelling for Hassocks, and the upper-end of a Pew—But then to see a swarm of Mercers and Drapers Wives, move down the Walks, like a Sail of Ships, that are known to be the worst of the Company by being the finest dress’d, with Diamond Ear-Rings, Diamond Necklaces, and a great Gold Watch as big as a Warming-Pan; and yet these City Things are so confounded proud, they never think themselves considerable enough till they are Ladies too; a mighty piece of Honour indeed to have ones Husband a Knight, and no Gentleman; tho’ really some of our Modern Gentry are as ridiculous on the other side, by valuing themselves upon their Births, when they have no Estates to support ’em; keep a Coach when they can’t afford a Livery, and Starve themselves to Feed their Horses—What if we sit down here—Mr. Loveworth, give us some Coffee.

[2.33]Loveworth. With all my heart, Madam.

[2.34]Hillaria. Oh! Here’s Mr. Maiden, and the Musick; now we shall have a Performance.                                                               [They Sit, Coffee brought in.

Enter Mr. Maiden with Musick.

[2.35]Maiden. Ladies, I have brought a fine Singer, that came down last night to Entertain you with a new Composure; one that’s mightily admir’d at the Small-Coal Musick Meeting.

[2.36] SONG.

[While the Song’s Performing, Maiden uses a Fan, a Pocket Lookinglass, &c.]

If moving softness can subdue,
See, Nymphs, a Swain more soft than you:
            We Patch, and we Paint,
            We’re Sick, and we Faint,
To the Vapours, and Spleen we pretend;
            We play with a Fan,
            We Squeak, and we Skream,
We’re Women, meer Women I’ th’ end.

            Your Airs we defie,
            Your Beauty deny,
Be as Gay, and as Fine as you can;
            Ye Nymphs, have a care,
            Be more Nice, and more Fair,
Or your Lovers in time we may gain.

[2.37]Goodfellow. Mr. Maiden is the most useful Person in such a publick Place, and distinguishes himself so obligingly by promoting ev’ry Diversion.

[2.38]Maiden. Oh, Madam, I am Master of the Ceremonies here; appoint all the Dancing, Summon the Ladies, and Manage the Musick; tho’ really, these Fidlers are such a parcel of idle, scoundrel Fellows, one has more trouble in keeping ’em together, than Mr. Rich has in governing the Drury-lane Players.

[2.39]Hillaria. But pray, Mr. Maiden, How d’ you employ your self for want of an Office in London?

[2.40]Maiden. Why, Madam, I never keep Company with lewd Rakes that go to the nasty Taverns, talk Smuttily, and get Fuddl’d, but Visit the Ladies, and Drink Tea, and Chocolate; They think me the best Creature; for they Consult me mightily about their Dress; I tell ’em when the Sleeve’s rowl’d too high, and the Gown Pinn’d too flat; fancy their Knots, and help ’em make their Patchwork; and they call me Mrs. Betty—Then, I have Chambers at the Temple, and keep a Levee, and a Visiting-Day; for since the Lawyers are all turn’d Poets, and have taken the Garrets in Drury-Lane, none but Beaus live at the Temple now, who have Sold all their Books, Burnt all their Writings, and furnish’d the Rooms with Lookinglass and China.

[2.41]Loveworth. But if you neither Read, Study, nor Converse with Men, How d’ you employ your superfluous hours?

[2.42]Maiden. Why, Sir, I can Pickle and Preserve, raise Paste; and make all my own Linnen; Then I love mightily to go abroad in Women’s Clothes: I was dress’d up last Winter in my Lady Fussock’s Cherry-colour Damask, sat a whole Play in the Front-Seat of the Box, and was taken for a Dutch Woman of Quality.

Enter Woodcock.

[2.43]Woodcock. Sure my Country is the Seat of Plagues—At Canterbury we are more pester’d with French Folks, and Presbyterians, than the Egyptians were with the Frogs and Lice—At Maidstone, twice a year, we have the Devourers o’ the Law, that breed a Famine where-ever they come; and if two or three Dozen of my best Poultry are not presented to my Lord Judge, I am put into Commission, and Plagu’d with all the Scolding Controversies in the Parish; and Tunbridge here is the Rendezvous of Coxcombs, I have walk’d this hour and hav’nt met one sociable Creature—So, here’s a blessed Cabal; when the Fops, and the Women get together, there’s generally more Noise, Nonsence, and Impertinence, than amongst a knot of Lawyers Clerks, and drunken Whores in the Middle-Box of the Eighteen Peny Gallery.

[2.44]Hillaria. But I wonder Mr. Maiden, How you Nice Beaus, that frequent all Assemblies, avoid mixing with the ruder sort?

[2.45]Maiden. Oh, Madam, We that are acquainted with the Town, distinguish People by their Airs; there’s as much difference between Men of Breeding, and Rakes, as between a Lady’s fine Shock, and an ugly Dutch Mastiff—One knows a Gentleman by a great deal of good Manners, and a chast, modest look that may be trusted in a Lady’s Bed-Chamber; and a Rake by a dirty double Button-Coat, a cursed long Sword, and a damn’d Irish Face, with more Impudence than the Box-Keepers that are always teazing Quality for Money.

[2.46]Woodcock. [Approaching.] And pray, Friend, By what token d’you know a Fool, when you see him?

[2.47]Loveworth. There Mr. Maiden can never be at a loss, who is so well acquainted with a Lookinglass.

[2.48]Woodcock. But where have you dispos’d my Daughter, good People.

[2.49]Hillaria. To her own Satisfaction, I guess, amidst a Crowd of Beaus, Raffling, Toying, and receiving Presents.

[2.50]Woodcock. Very good; And pray what Favours d’you Ladies allow these Beaus in

[2.51]Hillaria. Why, The liberty of Talking, Dancing, or a Game at Cards; and if we happen to meet Men of true Wit, perhaps we may be Charm’d into Marriage.

[2.52]Woodcock. But shou’d my Daughter suffer her self to be Corrupted by any of your London Wits, she shou’d e’en live by the Air of Covent-Garden, before I’de have a Wit inherit my Estate, I’de Stockjobb it away at Jonathans, lay it out in Cloathing a Regiment where I shou’d never see a Groat on’t agen, or sell it for a Place at Court, to be turn’d out upon the next Revolution.

[2.53]Hillaria. What, I warrant you’d match her to a Country Justice, that like some of our modern Commissioners, has no more Sense than to Commit old Women for Witchcraft, or some blockheadly Mayor of a Corporation, with a Country Mace carry’d before him like a Chocolate Mill—Well, You old Men, have the most unaccountable reasons for disposing your Daughters; One marries her to a Fool, because he’s a-Kin to Quality; Another to a Knave, because he’s a Man in Vogue, and expects Preferment; a third Superstitious Old Rogue gives her to a Sot, because he’s a Sober Person, takes Short-hand, and belongs to the same Congregation. I wonder what Religion there is in Love; and your Worship for fear the Sow shou’d baulk her litter, wou’d marry your Daughter to a Swine,—Oh the! joys of a Country life, to mind one’s Poultry, and one’s Dairy, and the pretty business of milking a Cow, then, the soft diversions of riding on Horseback, or going to a Bull-baiting, and the Charming Conversation of high-Crown Hats; who can talk of nothing but their Hogs, and their Husbands; for shame Mr. Woodcock, since you have an Estate you shou’d have polish’d your Family, and given your Daughter a Town Education.

[2.54]Woodcock. And have you, Madam, no more reverence for the memory of your Ancestors than to prophane a high-Crown-Hat, that token of Modesty, and Humility, for since your fantastical Geers came in with Wires, Ribbons, and Laces, and your Furbulo’s, with 300 Yards in a Gown and Petticoat, there has not been a good Houswife in the Nation—Then you’d give my Daughter a Town Education; I’le tell you what the Education of a Town Lady is—First she’s sent to a Dancing School, where she’s led about the Room by a Smooth-fac’d Fellow, Squeez’d by the hand, and debauch’d before she comes into her Teens: I’le be Sworn Dancing Masters, Singing Masters, and such followers o’ the Women, make greater Havock among Maidenheads in London, than the Germans did among the fine Fiddles at the Battle of Cremona—As you grow up you learn to be very Coquette, and are taught the Languages that you may Intreague with the whole World, and instead of rising early to inspect your Families, you stew abed till Noon, dress all the Afternoon, go to Dinner at Night, and play at Cards till the next Morning: When you have gam’d away all your Mony, you take your Cloaths upon Tick, and when you have run up a hundred pounds in several Tradesmen’s books, you pretend you have Husbands at the East-Indies, and no body can Arrest you.

[2.55]Hillaria. Why, Mr. Woodcock, you are perfect Scurrulous, I find, the Steely Soil of Kent has an Effect upon your Natures, as well as the Waters; but I don’t wonder you shou’d abuse the poor Women, when with that Petitioning Face you think you have Wit enough to correct Parliaments.

[2.56]Maiden. Indeed, Madam you say right, Spleen, and Ill-nature are as common in Kent, as Apple-dumplins; I wonder Sir, you Satyrs like the rest of your Brother Monsters, hav’nt a pair of Horns.

[2.57]Woodcock. And I wonder you Beaus, like the rest of your Brother Asses hav’nt a Tail.

Enter Squib and another fighting, People interposing, Maiden and the Women Shriek, and run to a corner of the Stage.

[2.58]All. Nay, Good Captain, you fright the Ladies.

[2.59]Loveworth. What’s the matter, Captain!

[2.60]Squib. An Impudent Dog that belongs to the Last Will and Testament-Office, had the assurance to boast of favours from my Sempstress.

[2.61]Woodcock. A mighty piece of Vanity truly.

[2.62]Hillaria. But Mr. Maiden, What makes you so terrified?

[2.63]Maiden. Why really, Madam, I am naturally Apprehensive of a naked Sword: They say, my Mother was frighted at a Quarrel, when she was with Child o’ me.

[2.64]Woodcock. (Aside.) So, now the Walks begin to Swarm—What are these Fops good for? They are too Lazy to Work, and too Cowardly to Fight—I’de fain have Beaus, Fidlers, Dancing-Masters, Poets, and Players, knockt o’ the Head as they do useless Puppies, that they might’nt over-run the Nation.                                                                                                                                                            [Exit.

[2.65]Hillaria. Come, Ladies, the Bell-Rings to Chapel, Mr. Loveworth, I must not force you thither contrary to your Inclinations; but Mr. Maiden’s always dispos’d for the Ladies.

[2.66]Loveworth. You, Madam, May Command me any where.
                                                               [Pushing Maiden aside.

[2.67]Maiden. Breeding.                                           [Leads Mrs. Goodfellow.

[2.68]Goodfellow. Sweet Mr. Maiden.            [Exeunt, all but Squib and Penelope.

Reynard and Belinda appear at the upper-end of the Walks.

[2.69]Penelope. I wonder, Captain, You’ll expose your valuable Life upon such frivolous Occasions: You great Commanders shou’d be reserv’d for more worthy Enterprizes.

[2.70]Squib. Oh! Madam, I am always a Champion for the Ladies; yet I endeavour to secure my own Safety: For tho’ Valour be necessary in a Soldier, most of our modern Heroes prefer good Conduct, and seldom enter upon an Engagement that Surmises Danger: And really, Madam, When I consider the present Scarcity of good Officers, I’me forc’d to curb the unruliness of my Passion out of a National regard.

[2.71]Penelope. Sure nothing is so Moving as an Heroick Spirit, nor anything so Becoming as Scarlet, it looks so graceful, and darts so noble a Lustre on the Face.

[2.72]Squib. And yet ev’ry pert Prig with a Patch, and a Cropt-Head o’ Hair, pretends to a Red-Coat forsooth; Scarlet’s grown so common now-a-days, one hardly knows a Colonel from a Costermonger.

[2.73]Penelope. Well, When ever I Marry, I’me resolved to have an Officer; for next to being a Woman of Quality, in my mind, nothing Sounds so great as the Captain’s Lady.

[2.74]Squib. Divine Lady, your Hand.

[2.75]Penelope. Noble Sir, you have it.                                                     [Exeunt.

Reynard and Belinda come forward.

[2.76]Belinda. I own your Merit, Sir, and wou’d not Slight your Love; but you know my Father’s Temper, and I am fix’d, never to Marry without his Consent: When you have found a means to Court his Favour, you may then hope for mine.

[2.77]Reynard.          Conduct, and Courage, ev’ry way I’le prove,}
                        First try by Pray’rs, and Arguments to move,}
                        Then Summon ev’ry Art, and Shape of Jove;}
                        Tho’ oft repuls’d, Love still the Fight maintains,}
                        And for each Thought we gladly beat our Brains,}
                        When the Reward so nobly pays the Pains.}

The End of the Second Act.

[back to top

ACT III.   SCENE I

Woodcock and Reynard.

[3.1]Woodcock. In love with my Daughter, Ha, ha, ha, A very Good Jest indeed.

[3.2] Reynard. Why shou’d you doubt my Passion, Mr. Woodcock, have I not shown my self a zealous Lover; follow’d her to the Bath, thence to Tunbridge, watch’d for her, Courted her, and Respected you.

[3.3] Woodcock. ’Tis true, Mr. Reynard, I believe you have a very great Affection for my Daughter, I must applaud your Judgment, and tell you, she deserves your Love. As to her Person, I can’t say much; but she’s Heiress to near Six thousand Acres of Arrable and Pasture; besides, a good Mansion-House; with Hop-Grounds, Cherry-Gardens, and other Appurtenances, situate, lying, and being in the Parish of Maidstone in the Country of Kent; and if a Woman with such Charms can want Followers in this Fortune-Hunting Age, I am deceiv’d.

[3.4] Reynard. I grant you, Sir, an Estate is a comfortable Convenience; but you ought not to prefer a few dirty Acres to a Woman of Beauty.

[3.5] Woodcock. What signifies Beauty without Money? ’Tis Money makes the Beauty—Tho’ a Woman be surprisingly Witty, fair to a Miracle, easie, and unaffected; She’s thought Disagreeable without Money; but tho’ she’s Crooked, Squints, Ill-Natur’d, and a meer Changling, she must be an Angel, when she’s an Alderman’s Daughter, and has Ten thousand Pounds—We plainly see how Beauty’s valu’d at London by the Women o’ the Town, who are forc’d to live by their Faces. In Term-time, indeed, they’ll squeeze Half-a-Crown; after Term they are glad of Seven-Groats; in the long Vacation, you may have a Furbulo for a Tester; and your poor Whores that ply the Rose-Passage, have so bad a Trade, they can scarce afford you an Anniversary clean Smock—Beauty, Mr. Reynard’s a Jest, I never Marry’d for’t my self—Indeed, I thought the Woman well enough, but if her Fortune hadn’t equall’d my Estate, we had ne’re Pig’d together—[Aside.] Tho’ cou’d I have lik’d her better, a Son might have Inherited my Estate; for I think they say, Girls are but the Product of half Inclination.

[3.6] Reynard.  Come, come, Mr. Woodcock, ne’re Dispute the matter, I like your Daughter, and your Daughter likes me; ’tis true, Fortune allotted her the largest Share, but had it been my Chance; we generous Hearts Marry for Love, and ne’re value Money.

[3.7]Woodcock.  Not value Money—Very like, If it were not for such extravagant Sparks as you, that want a true Sense of Money, we shou’d’nt have so much Subscription-Musick, nor so many French Buffoons skipping over to run away with it—Mr. Reynard, You have unluckily discover’d your self, and I hope now you’ll not pretend to my Daughter, I shall hardly give my Estate to one that don’t know the worth of it—But I mistake, noble, Sir, I shou’d Admire your Philosophy, the Contempt of Money shows so great a Soul—‘Twou’d be happy for the Nation, if every Country cou’d furnish such worthy persons for Assessors, Collectors, and Receiver’s General.                                                                                [Exit.

[3.8] Reynard.  That a plain, rough-hewn Fellow shou’d have such profound Knowledge—I own her Fortune is the chiefest Bait—Yet I Love her too, but how shall I convince him that I Love her—What if I feign my self Distracted—It shall be so—That may not only move Belief, but Pity—It must be Love, when the Mind seems Diseas’d.

Enter Loveworth.

[3.9] Loveworth.  Frank Reynard Contemplative! What mighty Business can there be depending that shou’d make thee thoughtful—Yonder come the two Fools, Squib and Maiden, you know the Opposition of their Tempers—Lets set’em together by the Ears, ‘twill make Sport.

[3.10] Reynard.  Prithee, Ned, Enjoy the whole Diversion they self, I have greater Matters to mind.                                                                                                                           [Exit.

[3.11] Loveworth.  Go thy ways for a Brainsick Fellow, Pox o’ the Women, I say, this damn’d Love spoils all manner of Society.       Enter Squib.

[3.12] Squib. Mr. Loveworth, I beg a multitude of Pardons, I shou’d Rob you of my self so long; but I have been earnestly engag’d in Mediating a prodigious Quarrel between the two Members of the Kit-Cat Club that challeng’d about a Pun.

[3.13] Loveworth.  I find, Captain, You are the Grand Umpire o’the Nation—But, I wonder, how you Ambitious Officers can rest satisfy’d with Trifling away your time at Tunbridge, when your Assistance is so much wanted in Italy.

[3.14] Squib.  Indeed, Mr. Loveworth, when I reflect how much my Presence wou’d Encourage the whole Army, on the Consideration of a good Preferment, next Campaigne I may oblige the Allies; but you must know, Sir, we Military Gentlemen have a mighty tenderness for one another’s Fame, and I shou’d be very cautious of performing any thing to Eclipse my very good Friend Prince Eugene—But Mr. Loveworth, here comes Maiden, prithee lets teaze him a little—What if we get him to the Tavern, and make him Drunk?

[3.15] Loveworth. With all my heart.

Enter Maiden.

They say, Mr. Maiden, You are in the Lampoon that came out this Morning, for having an Affair with Mrs. Motion your Lanlady’s Chambermaid.

[3.16] Maiden.  That’s an Impudent Report, Mr. Loveworth, only to Spoil one’s Reputation among the Ladies, for ’tis well known I have more Madesty, and never lay with a Woman in my life.

[3.17] Squib.  And will your Virtue gain you any Credit with the Ladies, you silly Toad; If you wou’d Settle an Interest there, you must Swear you ha’ worry’d half the Sex; but thou hast’nt Wit enough to subdue any thing above a Sempstress.

[3.18] Maiden.  Lard! What signifies Wit? How particular a Wit wou’d look at Court now-a-days; Your poor scoundrel Wits are forc’d to Cringe to us Men of Figure—I’me to have a Dedication next Winter: Well, a Dedication is the prettiest thing—To see one’s own Name in the Front of a Book—To the Honourable Francis Maiden Esq; —Then to have the World told of one’s Airs, and Equipage, and the Valour of one’s Ancestors—You may talk what you will of your Wit and Sense, but you’d part with all your Qualifications to have my Complexion.

[3.19] Squib.  O Lord, Complexion! Who the Devil minds that? And hast thou the Assurance to despise Men of Wit, and value thy self upon thy white Gloves, thy Honey-Water Bottle, and thy painted Face?

[3.20] Maiden.  Well, Where it not for a little Art, one shou’d look like other people, But what then, ‘tis only a Wash from the Dove in SalisburyBury Court, which all the Quality use, and tho’ I say it, when my Face is set out to the best Advantage, it has given many a Lady a Palpitation at the Heart—But you know, Captain, We have agree not to quarrel: I hate testy Folks, when I was at School, I cou’d never abide the Boys; they were always Rangling, and Fighting, but I lov’d mightily to play with the Girls, and dress Babies, and all my Acquaintance now never quarrel’d in their lives.

[3.21] Loveworth.  No, what sort of people are they good now?

[3.22]Maiden.  Oh! The best of Creatures in the World; we have such Diversion, when we meet together at my Chambers, There’s Beau Simper, Beau Rabbitsface, Beau Eithersex, Colonel Coachpole, and Count Drivel, that sits with his Mouth open, the prettiest Company at a Bowl of Virgin-Punch; we never make it with Rum nor Brandy—like your Sea Captains, but two Quarts of Mead to half a pint of White Wine, Lemon-Juice, Burridge, and a little Perfume; Then we never read Gazets, nor talk of Venlo and Vigo, like your Coffee-House Fellows; but play with Fans, and mimick the Women, Skream, hold up your Tails, make Cursies, and call one another, Madam—But Mr. Loveworth, Are you for the Dancing at Southborrough to Night? I’me going to be all new dress’d.

[3.23]Loveworth.  Ay, But we are too Soon yet; lets take a Flask first at the Rummer.

[3.24]Maiden.  O Lard I never [to go] the Tavern.

[3.25] Squib.  But faith you shall, Mr. Loveworth, lets force him along.

[3.26] Maiden.  O Lard I shall be Ravished; Captain you are the rudest Man, as I hope to be Sav’d. I’le call out: Well, don’t tumble a body then, and I will go, but I never drink any thing but Rhenish and Sugar.

Squib.  Dam Rotgut Rhenish, we’ll have Mrs. Motion’s health in a Bumper of Barcelona.

[3.27] Maiden.  Oh! She’s a Bold Pullet.                                                               [Exeunt]

Enter Woodcock, and Belinda. A Chair, Woodcock Sits.

[3.28]Woodcock.  Belinda, Come hither.

[3.29] Belinda.  (Aside) Now shall I be ask’d, a thousand more Whimsical Cross Questions, than a Bashful Witness, by an Impudent Yelper at the Old-Bayley.

[3.29] Woodcock.  What Notion ha’ you of Mankind?

[3.30] Belinda.  Notion Sir, I think of  ’em as the rest o’ my Sex do.

[3.31]Woodcock.  As the rest of her Sex do—I never knew a Woman give a direct Answer in my Life; but if I must explain your Meaning, that’s as much as to say, You think of nothing else—But Pray, Madam—If I may be so bold—What mighty Acquaintance, and Intimacy—is there between Mr. Reynard and you?

 Belinda.  Mr. Reynard, Sir, No more than what’s General, I have no farther Knowledge of him, than the Freedom of the Place allows.

[3.32] Woodcock.  The Freedom o’ the Place—Why if you know as much of him as the Freedom of the Place allows; you have known him in every Sense: And Item, For what Lewdness is there this Damn’d Place don’t Countenance?—Look you Daughter, I smell your Affections, and resolve to Spoil the Intreague; therefore be pleas’d to Bundle up your Nightcloths, your Patches, Pomatum, and the rest of your Trumpery; for positively I’le be gone to Morrow—When I think it Seasonable for you to Marry, I’le take care to provide you a Husband my self.

[3.33] Belinda.  But I hope Sir, you’ll not enjoyn me any Man contrary to my Inclinations.

[3.34] Woodcock.  Your Inclinations—Perhaps your Inclinations are to half the Sex; I know very well you are for a Beau; a Flattering Coxcomb, that wou’d make you believe your Eyes are a pair of Flamboys, and Cringe to you with Bits of Love-Songs, in a Damn’d Couuter-Tenor Voice—(Singing) Then prithee, prithee give me gentle Boy—But I shan’t leave my Estate to a Periwig-Block; And since that must descend with you, I shall consult my own Judgment, and not your Inclinations; therefore if your Ladyship don’t think fit to Marry whom I shall Assign, you may e’en Fast ‘till your Stomach comes to you: I leave you to think of that, and prepare for your Journey.                                                            [Exit,

[3.35]Belinda.  What Noise and Discord sordid Interest breeds!
Oh! That I had Shar’d a levell’d State of Life,
With quiet humble Maids, exempt from Pride,
And Thoughts of Worldly Dross that marr their Joys,
In any Sphere, but a Distinguish’d Heiress,
To raise me Envy, and Oppose my Love.
Fortune, Fortune, Why did you give me Wealth to make me wretched? [Weeps.

Enter Hillaria.

[3.36]Hillaria.  Belinda in Tears—Now has that old Rogue been Plaguing her—Poor Soul! She weeps more heartily than ever I did, when I was Whipt for Romping: I find People have two great Satisfactions in Children; first to get ’em, and then to cross’em: But were he my Father, I’de sooner break his Heart than he shou’d force a Tear from my Eyes—Come, Child, Let’s retire, and take a Chiriping Dram, Sorrow’s dry; I’le divert you with the New Lampoon, ‘tis a little Smutty; but what then; we Women love to read those things in private.             [Exeunt

Enter Lucy.

[3.37]Lucy.  How many Resolutions have I made to be Virtuous? And cou’d never keep ‘em above two hours: Therefore I design never to make any more—This Tunbridge is the Devil; For here are so many handsome Fellows proffering Love, that let a Body protest never so much against it, there always comes some rub i’ the way.

Reynard. (Without Singing.)

[3.38] Lucy. Bless me, Here’s Mr. Reynard, that’s just run Distracted, they say, for Mrs. Belinda, the Yeoman of Kent’s Daughter; I’le Swear a good clean Limb’d sort of a Man—What pity ’tis he wants his Understanding.

Enter Reynard Singing.

[3.39] Reynard.  Then Mad, very Mad let us be, &c.

[3.40[Lucy. Poor Gentleman! How active he seems to be: Well, of all things, I love a brisk Man—Pray, Sir, How long have you been Mad?

[3.41]Reynard.  Ever since, I first saw a Woman: Woman fir’d my Breast, rackt my Soul, and confounded all my Senses.

[3.42]Lucy.  Good lack, Was there ever any thing so strange, I hope he’s Mad for me too—Sure, Sir, That was some cruel Creature, that didn’t return you love for love; I fancy a kind Nymph wou’d recover your Wits agen.

[3.42]Reynard.  The whole Sex are kind, I meet no Opposition; for now Honourable Love is out of Date, and Maidenheads are Drugs that lie upon their Hands; you may have ’em like Eggs, Ten a Groat.

[3.43] Lucy.  Indeed, I’me glad then I Sold mine before they came so cheap.

[3.44] Reynard.  But if they resist me; then I grow outragious, storm, stare, rave, and force all I meet.

[3.45] Lucy.  My Stars! The Man talks strangely terrible, if a body was afraid on’t; I believe, Sir, you, like other Knight Errants o’ the Age, boast a great deal more than you perform.

[3.46] Reynard.  No, I am all Action, my Life, my Soul; thou Varnisher of thy Mistresses Imperfections, Cabinet of her Intreagues, Heiress of old Cloaths, and Mender of fusty foul Linnen.

[Tumbles her, throws her down, and goes out Singing, Then mad, very mad let us be, &c.

[3.47] Lucy.  Was there ever such a Whelp, to throw a body down,—and then run away, but I’le go tell my Lady; for if he shou’d meet her in this wild Fit, she’d be quite Scar’d. [Exit.

Enter Hillaria.

[3.48] Hillaria.  I have put all the Mischief imaginable into Belinda’s Head, and have left her to Muse on’t—Now for my own Matters—This Musick, Rambling, Tea, and Scandal, are very pleasant, but all don’t secure the main-Chance; and that must be done before I leave Tunbridge; for Faith, I’me so damnably in Debt, I daren’t show my head in Town, ’till I have got some body to clear Scores—Here comes Woodcock, if I cou’d trap the Old Fellow now for a Husband; what variety of young Lover’s wou’d his Estate Purchase—Sure no Body in this World had ever greater occasion for a Fool than I have at present.

Enter Woodcock.

[3.49] Woodcock. Who wou’d be troubl’d with Daughters? those Puff-Past Things, that like Race-Horses cost one more in keeping than they’re worth; for my Daughter, she’s made up of nothing but Pride, and Disobedience; and if her Vanity’s but the least oppos’d, then she’s Sick, and nothing but Tunbridge will Cure her—That People shou’d come hither for Air, a damn’d Hole amidst a parcel of counfounded Hills more stifling than a Bagnio, and Stinks worse than the Upper-Gallery in hot Weather—I am plagu’d to that degree, that cou’d I meet a Woman in any measure, abating the Impertinence of her, I wou’d yet hope a Son, only to disappoint my Daughter’s Expectations.

[3.50] Hillaria.  (Aside) Then e’en take me, and try what you can do. I’le employ the hint; this may be the lucky Minute for ought I know—I begin, Mr. Woodcock, to be tir’d of this noisy Town-life, and wou’d fain Settle in the Country: D’you know never an old Shepherd that’s in mighty distress for a Wife?

[3.51] Woodcock.  He must be in a damnable Distress indeed that wou’d Marry a London lady.

[3.52] Hillaria.  Oh! Mr. Woodcock! A Woman bred in London makes the best Country-Wife; for being Surfeited with Hurry and Confusion, Solitude is a perfect Elizium; ’tis like reposing one’s self after a fatiguing Journey; and of all Parts, I shou’d chuse Kent: They say you Kentish Men are the best natur’d People, and make the kindest Husbands in the World, I know several Ladies extreamely fond of Kent.

[3.53] Woodcock.  Very like; most of you Town-Ladies are naturally Fond of strong Kentish-Men—But pray, Madam, What has made you such a Friend to the Country, who but now took so much Pains to ridicule it; tho’ few regard what your Sex say, since ‘tis agreed, Woman ne’re spoke her Meaning yet; for your Minds are so very mutable, that whatever you think at present, you’re of a quite different Opinion before you can utter it.

[3.54] Hillaria.  But the Thoughts of Marriage, Sir, are more Solid, and tho’ a flashy Fop may divert one for a quarter of an hour; were I to chuse a Companion for Life; nothing’s so agreeable as your Humour.

[3.55] Woodcock.  My Humour—Why you hav’nt a design upon me, Madam? D’sdeath, She has almost given me a Kentish Ague—Marry thee, no Faith, I’de sooner breed out o’ my Wall-Ey’d Mare, for whatever she may be for Beauty, I shou’d have one at least that wou’d’nt talk me to Death.

[3.56] Hillaria.  Thou art a rude Beast, and ’tis pity any thing that’s Humane shou’d Couple with thee.

Enter Lucy.

[3.57] Lucy. Oh! Madam, The saddestAccident, poor Mr. Reynard’squite raving Mad; he met me just now in this Place, and threw me down after that robust manner, I thought he wou’d have Ravish’d me.

[3.58] Woodcock.  Mad, ha, ha, ha, very diverting truly, a rattle-headed London Rake, to give out he’s Mad, Why who the Devil e’re thought him otherwise, ev’ry Body’s Mad there—Lawyers are Mad in finding out new Querks to make their Clients more Mad—Poets, after new Whimsies—Physicians after new Poysons—Musicians, whose Brains are scatter’d into Semi-quavers, and Women have been Mad from the Creation.

Enter Reynard.

[3.59] Reynard.  I have been talking to theWeather-Cock on yonder Church Steeple, and ’tis the prettiest tatling Company, I fancied my self at the Drawing-Room amongst all the Ladies—(To Woodcock.)—Ha! Who art thou with that blustering Face like the North-Wind at the corner of an old Map, Ha, ha, ha—Nay, be’nt Angry, good Boreas; thou look’st like a Wise Politician, we’ll talk of State-Affairs; Prithee call for Pipes, and let’s Smoke the Nation; bring me some Gunpowder.

[3.60] Woodcock. Gunpowder!

[3.61] Reynard.  Ay Gunpowder; Thou art one of those heavy, thinking Animals, that funk Tobacco; I’me a Courtier, and Courtiers Smoke Gunpowder, for they are all Flash—I’le tell you News—There’s a Civil War broke out among the Cards, the Four Knaves are to be no longer Court-Cards—Pam, is a sly, cringing Parasite, flatters ev’ry Body, buys of ev’ry Body, and pays no Body—The Knave of Diamonds, borrows other People’s Wit, and begs other People’s Estates—The Knave of Spades, is a Court-Rake, Scoures the Streets, breaks Windows, and beats the Watch—And the Knave of Hearts, is a fine Dressing Courtier, that Debauches the Citizens Wives; besides, the whole Pack are up in Arms; The Four Queen’s are to be Banish’d, and the Four Kings Depos’d.

[3.62] Woodcock.  Why so?

[3.63] Reynard.  Because each petty Card is like a grumbling Common-Wealth’s Man, that hates Monarchy, and will allow no Body to be above himself—But I have made Peace.

[3.64] Woodcock.  How?

[3.65] Reynard.  Why henceforward there’s to be no Hereditary Honour, Mony’s to be made Protector; and ev’ry paultry Cit that has but Ten thousand Pounds to Purchase a Title, is to be made a Peer.

[3.66] Hillaria.  Why, That fancy now wou’d be very pleasant, to have some of our Citizens Ennobl’d; I warrant we shou’d have my Lord Leadenhall, Count Cheapside, and the Earl of Stocks-Market.

[3.67] Reynard.  But hang Politicks; Pleasure’s my Business: Let dull, studious Mortals poise the tottering Globe, I am light as Air; and make a Tennis-Ball of the World, Taste ev’ry Diversion without Care, that’s always new because it leaves no Impression? and feed on the Sweets of a ravishing Mistress; without the Puny Sense of Love—But where’s Belinda? Where’s my lovely Charmer? We’ll steal together to some secret Wood, and there we’ll rest our selves from all Mankind; carelessly on some rising Bank we’l lie, shaded by Myrtles, fann’d with gentle Gales, and lull’d by purling Rivers into Sleep.                    [Stands fix’d.

[3.68] Hillaria. Now are not you an old Brute to occasion a poor Gentleman’s Distraction, and have no more Charity?

[3.69] Woodcock.  Charity—Why, Madam, Shou’d half the Town run Mad for my Daughter, must I Ruine my Family to recover their Wits? Wou’d your Ladiship’s Charity Marry a Man under the Gallows to save him from being Hang’d—Look you, Sir, I understand the World, and can see thro’ these Stage-Devices; therefore, if your Worship thinks you have less Wit than you brought down with you, and suspect you have been Robb’d here, you’d e’en Sue the County.                                                                                                           [Exit.

[3.70] Reynard.  Curse on his Rustick Sense, ’twill never take: What’s to be done, Hillaria?

[3.71] Hillaria.  Ne’re be discourag’d, Man; When you engage an obstinate old Miser, fortify’d with Experience, you attack a strong built Town; ev’ry Stratagem must be thought of, and ev’ry Faculty employ’d—I Swear, were it not for her Estate, one wou’d’nt take so much Pains about the Creature; indeed, her Face is well enough, but she has a Shape like a Candle; then she’s horrid Silly; for when one tells her of a likely Fellow, she crys, My Father—If the rest o’ the World were but half as ’fraid of the Devil as she is of that Old Toft, he’d hardly have so much Pow’r over us—I hate any thing so mealy-mouth’d.

[3.72] Reynard.  Prithee, Hillaria, Leave this Woman’s Railing, and say, what Course shall I take.

[3.73] Hillaria.  Well, You Men are the saddest Souls at an Intreague without the Assitance of our Sex—Come, I’le tell you what’s to be done—You know, he’s mightily averse to any thing of a Gentleman, and resolves to Marry her to some Country [Grazier] like himself: D’you assume that Habit, Forge a commendatory Letter from some Neighbour of his, whose Name you may easily learn, and carry it with all the Impudence of Fuller; and if that don’t Cozen the old Fellow, I’le be doom’d to Die a Virgin, and that’s a damnable hard Sentence.

[3.74] Reynard.  By Heav’n, I like the Project, and will about it instantly.

[3.75] Hillaria.  For my part, I’le e’en go make Love to Mr. Maiden, ’tis a sign our Sex are in sad want of Husbands, when we are forc’d to Court the Men; but my Pride must be supported; and faith I know the Town too well to lose any thing for want of Assurance.

[3.76]Reynard.  Come, Hillaria.

Tho’ Fortune, like the wav’ring Sun-shine, Dance,
With Constant Eyes, I’le Humour ev’ry Glance;
No Jars, no Crosses, shall my Hopes destroy;
New Ways, I’le Study, and new Arts employ,
And in all Shapes, pursue th’ Amorous Boy.

The End of the Third Act.

[back to top]

ACT IV.
SCENE, Continues.

Enter Maiden.

[4.1] Maiden.  I’me glad I ha’ got away from ‘em, I hate the Stinking Taverns, and they made one drink Bumpers o’ four Claret; without so much as Nutmeg and Sugar—Here comes Mrs. Hillaria, if she wou’d but make Love to me now; for tho’ we Beaus seldom care for Marriage, ’tis pretty to have the Ladies Fond of us.

Enter Hillaria.

[4.2] Hillaria.  Mr. Maiden, we have wanted you extreamely at the Tea Table, I heard you were’nt well.

[4.3] Maiden.  Indeed, Madam, I was forc’d to lie down a little; I’me but a weakly body, this Hot weather overcomes one strangely.

[4.4] Hillaria.  Nay really I have often accus’d, the Tyranny of the Mode, in obliging you to wear those Great Wigs, ’Tis well you Beaus are not inclined to be Hot-Headed—But Summer time is tedious to ev’ry body; I wonder, how so many Fat Gentlemen, can endure the Green all Day, tho’ tis pleasant enough to Look out o’ the Window and observe ‘em—To see a Tun o’ Grease, with a broad fiery Face, and a little black Cap, waddle after a Bowl rub, rub, rub, rub, rub, and lose more Fat in getting a Shilling—Than wou’d yield him a Crown at the Tallow-Chandlers.

[4.5] Maiden.  Why truly, Madam, we have a World o’ Greasy Beaus about Town, I fancy half the Gentlemen o’ the last Age, Marry’d their Cookmaids: But I never appear upon the Green amongst ’em, for in two Minutes one’s tann’d abominably, besides I hate those fatiguing Diversions.

[4.6] Hillaria.  Then your Kentish Men here are for leaping; and throwing a great Iron-Bar, as if the Slavish Exercises of a Porter, cou’d heighten the Character of a Gentleman.

[4.7] Maiden.  These Kentish-Folks, value themselves so much upon their Strength, and because they carry’d a few Boughs against William the Conquerour, they talk of bearing Oak-Trees. I warrant in time, they’ll pretend to remove the City of London into their own Country—Some People too are fond of a Horse, I wonder what pleasure there is in Jumbling one’s Bones to a Jelly, I’me sure, I was as weak once with Riding a Mile and a half, as if I had Lain-in: But I Love a Spring-Chariot mightily, and there’s nothing we Beaus take more Pride in, than a Sett of Genteel Footmen, I never have any but what wear their own Hair, and I allow ’em a Crown a Week for Gloves and Powder; if one shoudn’t, they’d Steal horridly to set themselves out, for now not one in ten is without a Watch, and a nice Snuff-Box with the best Orangerie, and the Liberty of the Upper-Gallery, has made ’em so confounded pert, that as they wait behind one at Table, they’ll either put in their Word, or Mimick a body, and People must bear with ’em, or else pay ’em their Wages.

[4.8] Hillaria.  Nay, a Shining Equipage, sooths my Vanity to the last degree, we shall make the most Suitable Couple.

[4.9] Maiden.  (Aside)  Couple—I knew she wanted a body.

[4.10] Hillaria.  And really, Mr. Maiden, to conceal the matter no longer, I am in Love with you to Death.

[4.11] Maiden.  Truly, Madam, Marriage is a thing I hav’n’t thought on yet.

[4.12] Hillaria.  That Meen, Air, Face, Wit, Shape, that moving Softness, and those Speaking Eyes, at once have rais’d me to the height of Joy, and thrown me to the bottom of Despair.

[4.13] Maiden.  (Aside)  She’s mighty fond methinks. She may be a Cheat for ought I know; for so many Rakish Women come down to Tunbridge, to make their Fortunes among us Men of Estates, that if a body han’t great care one may be Stole—How shall I get away from her—Madam, Il’e but Step into the Back-Yard, and wait on you presently. [Exit.

[4.14] Hillaria.  I find nothing can be made of this Fellow, there’s somewhat in his Nature contrary to Love—Oh! here comes my Spruce Militia-Captain, as remarkable for Impudence, as the other for Modesty—With what variety of Fools is this place Supply’d.

Enter Squib.

[4.15] Squib. (Aside)  A flinching Son of a Sucubus to pretend calling for a Lookinglass; and Sneak away—My Mistress—Hem—Now for my Rhetorick—Madam, I am Ravished with your Air, the Lustre of your Eyes, the Acuteness of your Wit, and the Symmetry of your Person; there is not a Lady, whose Presence I admire more, throughout the Cosmical System.

[4.16] Hillaria.  I find, Captain, you have Eloquence to engage the Women, as well as Valour to subdue the Men, but ’tis my Misfortune, not to be touch’d with those extraordinary Faculties, that bait so many of my Sex.

[4.17] Squib.  Some Ladies, indeed, are of a Cold Constitution; but can you Madam object, to one particular, throughout the finished Catalogue of my Perfections? But ’tis the general Fate of us Men o’ the Fashion, to captivate the Crowd o’ Ladies, and yet be slighted by a single She we Love.                                                                                                                     (Sings)
Take me, take me, while you may,
Venus comes not ev’ry Day.

[4.18] Hillaria. (Aside)  Was there ever such a Coxcomb—I must own, Captain, your Graces are very insinuating, but so many reasons perswade me against a Martial Love—A Woman that values her Husband, is always apprehensive of the Chance o’ War; then, shou’d you be kill’d in a Battle, one must Speak to the Government, for a Pension of twenty Shillings a Week to Subsist half a Score Children, and hammer out the rest with Washing, and Starching; besides, a Soldier’s Wife has so very little Credit abroad, that shou’d one happen to be out o’ Cash, one may want so much as a Paper o’ Pins.

[4.19] Squib.  Want Pins—Madam, you shall eat Pins—Those are your poor Starving Officers that live by Bullying, and their Wives by Cullies ; I have three Hundred a Year in possession, and two more in Reversion, when my Grand-mother Ptysick Dies; so that you may have ready Mony, you may go to the Tripe-Woman’s with ready Money, to the Strong-Watershop with ready Money, and to the Mercers with ready Money; and that’s what half the Women o’ Quality can’t pretend to—Then for Pedigree, the Squibs, Madam, are as Ancient and Numerous a Race, as the Hittites, the Jebusites, or the Girgishites; I have Relations considerable in all parts o’ the World; Don Greazywhiskers, Renegado de Vigo, Seignior  Furioso Flammoso de Mount Ætna, Lord Hounsditch, Mounsieur Ne’re a Shirt, and in Holland my Dear Uncle, Myn Heer Belch Van Butter-Box, will not all this prevail? Ye Stars, is there no way to make her mine?

[4.20] Hillaria.  One way, Captain, there is, and but one; I have sworn never to yield my self without a Duel; a Woman’s hardly spoke of ’till she has occasion’d Blood-shed: All Ladies o’ Figure, when they design to Marry, contrive some way to be fought for, then receive the Conquerour, to show they approve the Deed—Mr. Loveworth, Captain, is your Rival; d’ you Engage him, if you Succeed, my Person is the Reward: You’ll not find it difficult, he’s a Coward, and will scarce stand the Brunt.

[4.21] Squib. (Aside)  A Coward, Nay then I may venture to Challenge him—If that be all, Madam, ’tis done already—I’le mince the Dog—Rival me, an Audacious Rascal—Madam I’le Anatomize him for your Ladyship’s Curiosity—(Aside) I’le to the Tavern and get a little flush’d, few have Courage enough to fight in Cool Blood. Now Fortune; for my Mistress, and my Fame.
                        ’Tis my last Refuge, and if that don’t win her,
                        O all You Gods above—The Devils in her.                                           [Exit.

[4.22] Hillaria.  Now have I a mighty Pleasure in setting two Fellows a tilting; shou’d one of ’em be run thro’, what an Air ’twill be upon the Walks, for People to observe a Body, and cry, she had a Man kill’d about her; if they both prove Cowards, ’twill afford Mirth, to see two Fools parry at a Distance, they are sure not to hurt one another, and that’s not unlikely in this Periwig Age. Psha! my old Suitor, Mr. Loveworth, how insipid is a Fellow’s Company one has been acquainted with a Month; I begin now to hate him so very heartily, that the Devil take me, if I don’t—marry him—but what Humour shall I affect, in the Morning I rally’d him, now I’ll ha’ the Spleen, that will give him an Opinion of my Understanding, for the most fashionable Sign of a modern great Wit, is a great deal of ill-Nature.

Enter Loveworth.

[4.23] Loveworth.  Save you, save you, madam! What, melancholy!

[4.24] Hillaria.  One’s apt to be so, Sir, at the Approach of dull Company.

[4.24] Loveworth.  Oh, she has got the Spleen, I’ll fetch her out of that presently.
[Sings and dances a Minuet.

[4.25] Hillaria.  Now were I really out of Humour, Splenetick, and Sick ev’n to Death, that Minuet wou’d set me a dancing. [Sings the same Tune and dances.] I find Mr. Loveworth, ’tis in vain for us Women to assume ill Nature with you Men that know our blind Side.
Loveworth.  We know, Madam, your Natures are not rough, but you Ladies so damnably dissemble Cruelty, where you find you are belov’d, we don’t know what to make on’t.

[4.26] Hillaria.  Good Sir, don’t mention Love, that will give me the Vapour’s indeed; but where’s Belinda, Mrs. Goodfellow, Penelope, and the rest o’ the Company?

[4.27] Loveworth. Oh! Madam, they are all got to Cards in the Summer-House at the lower end o’ the Garden.

[4.28] Hillaria.  At Cards, and I here! Heav’n forgive me, I don’t use to slip an Opportunity of getting Money; I’ll be with ’em this Moment, but dear Mr. Loveworth that Minuet agen.
[Both sing and go out in the Minuet Step.                                           Exeunt.

Enter Woodcock with a Letter, and Reynard in a Country Habit.

[4.29]Woodcock. [Reading.] Numerous Tenements—Great Store of Cattel—And Lands very extensive in Romney Marsh—(Aside.) A most convenient Place for my Owling Trade, exporting Wool, and running French Goods—I find, Sir, you are commended to me for a Son-in-Law.

[4.30] Reynard. Yes.

[4.31] Woodcock. Pray, what Estate may you have about Romney Marsh?

[4.32] Reynard. Estate, Why I have Estate enough to set up who I please for Parliament Man, A?? and when I ha’ done, think I ha’ Wit enough to gi’n Instructions how he shall behave himself.

[4.33] Woodcock. A notable Fellow this; no great Orator I see, but his Meaning’s good.

[4.34] Reynard. Now, pray, what has your Daughter, for if her Vortune don’t answer my Estate, I’se not have her, be she a Cherubim, souse  me.

[4.35] Woodcock. (Aside.) My own Humour—He knows the Market, I find, and I warrant has bought many a Horse—And I’d have a Man inspect a Wife as he does a Horse, see if she has all her Teeth, and her Quarters tight, and sound. I’m sure, he that marries a London Dame has Reason enough to do’t, for the better sort, what with drinking hot Liquors, and eating Sugar-Plumbs at Church, not one in ten has a Tooth left; and for the middle sort, I don’t believe there’s an Orange Woman at the Play-house, or a Sempstress on the Exchange, that’s Pepper-proof —Well, Friend, I’ll show you my Daughter, if you like her Person, you may find her worth more than you imagine.                                               [Exit.

[4.36] Reynard. An honest old Fellow—So, thus far the Plot succeeds; but how shall I blind him in Relation to the Estate—That’s easy—’Tis but getting a few false Deeds, and the matter’s done—We can’t want Forgery, or Perjury while the Nation affords Lawyers.

Re-enter Woodcock with Belinda.

[4.37] Woodcock. Daughter, use him courteously, and endeavour to like him; his Estate join’d to yours will make you the greatest Woman in the Country.

[4.38] Reynard. A Strapper i’faith—a Well built Lass; tho’ White, and Red like a Stockgilliflower, and a choice-pair of Udders—I must tast her—b’your Leave Forsooth—(Kisses her) As tender as a Pullet, and I warrant as juicy as a Burgamy Payre.

Belinda. ’Please to sit, Sir.                                                                   [They Sit,

[4.39] Reynard. They say, we shall have a good Crop t’Year.

[4.40] Belinda. As the Weather proves, Sir.

[4.41] Reynard. Ay—’T zeems, forsooth, I and you are to be Zweet-hearts, and lig together for the good of our Kind—Nay pray you now be’nt so shy; look a little smirking upon a Body—do—If I don’t love you with all my Soul, Heartsblood, Liver, and Lights, I’se gi’ you leave to make a Harcelet of me.

[4.42] Woodcock. Very well, but I’ll leave ’em together, ’tis ’nt fair to observe Lovers. [Exit.

[4.43] Belinda. (Rising) Ha, ha, ha, methinks Sir, the Clown’s very natural, and the Gentleman but affected; I’d advise you to wear this Habit always, turn perfect Farmer, and go to Plow.

[4.44] Reynard. In the Field of Love, Madam, I agree with you; you see what Forms and Shapes you have Power to turn us into; I’m glad you kept your Countenance, for tho’ a Design be carry’d on to the very finishing Point, your gigling Sex are apt to burst out, and spoil all—but dear Creature, let’s contrive some Way to be marry’d instantly, for fear of a Discovery.

[4.45] Belinda. The only way I can think of is to sollicite him in Propria Persona, which you know he’ll ne’re consent to; and the more you press him for Mr. Reynard, the Gentleman, the more you hasten the Match with Mr. Reynard the Clown.

[4.46] Reynard. My Life, my Angel, let me hug thee for thy Invention---’Dsdeath  the Old Man, let’s be a little familiar,                                                           [They sit,

(Sings.)             I’ll tell you a Story, a Story so merry,             [Woodcock Enters.
                        Concerning the Abbot of Canterbury,
                        And of his House-keeping, and high Renown,
                        Which made him repair to fair London Town,
                                    Derry down, down, hey derry down,

[4.47] Woodcock. So, so, I’m glad to see ’em so Great already.

[4.48] Reynard. How now quoth King John,’tis told unto me,
                        That thou keepest a far better House than I,
                        If thou dost not answer me Questions Three,
                        Thy Head shall be taken from thy Body,
                                    Derry down, &c.
You see Forsooth, I’se no fine Singer, but i’faith I’se be th’ loudest ev’ry Sunday in our Church for all that; haugh.

[4.49] Woodcock. Come Belinda, I’ll relieve your Modesty the first time; the Ladies enquire for you—Well, Sir, can you love my Daughter?

[4.50] Reynard. Love her, ay, better than I do Beef and Pudding; why she’s a Boncritten —but i’faith we’se not part so—(Kisses her.) by my Troth as pretty a Morsel as a Mon wou’d desire to feed on.
(Sings.)             And if thou dost not answer me Questions Three;
                        Thy Head shall be taken from thy Body.
            Derry down, &c.                                                       [Exeunt Wood. and Reynard.

Enter Hillaria.

[4.51] Hillaria. I have heard all, Belinda, and applaud my own good Genius, but Intreagues of my forming generally prosper; I often fancy I cou’d write a Play.

[4.52] Belinda. Why don’t you try, Hillaria.

[4.53] Hillaria. No really, Belinda, a Poetess is so scandalous a Character; for when a Woman has the Face to appear at Rehearsals, and teach Actors their Parts, her Assurance will scruple nothing; besides, Women-Writers have quite lost their Reputation; for in Love Scenes their Thoughts are so loose, and their Expressions so open, and unveil’d, the Ladies can’t be seen at a Performance of their own Sex; and Obscenity in a Woman is so odious—Well, Belinda, I long to see thee in a Lover’s Arms, settl’d at London, and dress’d like other People: Lord! How the Women o’ Quality wou’d titter to see a high Crown-Hat in the Front-Seat o’ the Box: Thou art good natur’d, Child, to suffer these Impositions; shou’d any old Humourist force a Steeple upon my Head, I’de make more noise in his Ears than if ’twere a Church-Steeple with the whole Set o’ Bells in’t.

[4.54] Belinda. A ridiculous Habit reflects more on those that impose it, than on us, where dependance forces a Subjection; but if I shou’d visit London, you’ll instruct [your] Friend, Hillaria; for tho’ frequenting Tunbridge may render one not awkward, I shall be a perfect Novice in half the Town Airs.

[4.55] Hillaria. Why truly, Belinda, tho’ our Observation be all trifle, a Woman that’s well vers’d in the Niceties of Behaviour, is thought no small Politician; For in the first place, if you wou’d show a refin’d Education, you must be very timorous, and fearful, skream at the Jolt of a Coach, or the Pop of a Pistol, Die away at the Sight of a Rat; All well-bred Ladies are frighted at ev’ry thing but a Man—Then you must be taken Ill at publick Places; tho’ not like my Lady Fullmoon, that fainted away in a high colour; but to Humour a Swooning, with a pretty Paleness, causes an agreeable Disturbance, and gives one an opportunity to be supported by the Man one likes; Then the next Morning, there’s such ratling with Footmen, which makes one considerable in the Neighbourhood, from this Lady and that Lady, tho’ we hate one another mortally, to know how one’s Head, and one’s Stomach does, and how one rested that Night; and I all the while in my Closet at a Couple of cold Chickens, and a Tankard o’ Sherry.

[4.56] Belinda. But what Amusements have you there?

[4.57] Hillaria. Oh! Innumerable! My Head turns round with the promiscuous Enjoyment: There’s the Play, Where I generally sidle in about the middle of the Second Act, that People may think I have been detain’d on some important Affair; If ’tis a Tragedy, I turn my Rump, and talk to the Beaus behind; But a Comedy’s very pleasant, if ’tis but Abusive; I love Satyr strangely: Then Hyde-Park, Oh! Hyde-Park does ravish me.

[4.58] Belinda. But there you have no Conversation.

[4.59]Hillaria. That’s nothing, a world of pretty things may be done without Speech; but tho’ our Tongues are silent, we Discourse still.

[4.60] Belinda. How so?

[4.61] Hillaria. With our Fingers; there’s many an Intreague carry’d on that way, and that’s so pretty to appoint Time, and Place, and not a Word spoke: That Art, they say, was invented to oblige some Men o’ Quality, who wanted the Gift of Elocution; and are not these much preferable to the Melancholy Country; where you may walk a whole day, and not see a Man: I’me sure I was so Mop’d there once for want of Company, I was glad to talk to the great Bull-Dog—Come, Child, we’ll send for a Beau to carry us to Southborrough, and I’le tell you more.

[4.62] Belinda. I wonder, Hillaria, You’ll appear with these Beaus, and always speak so despicably of ’em.

[4.63] Hillaria. They give one Snuff, lose their Money at Cards, and pay Coach-Hire.
[Exeunt.

Loveworth and Squib meeting.

[4.64] Squib. (Aside.) My Rival! Dear Spirit of Burgundy  assist me—Mr. Loveworth, Draw.

[4.65] Loveworth. Draw, Captain, Upon what Account? How long have we been Enemies.

[4.66] Squib. Look you, Sir, I’me for Action, and not Words: In short, You have endeavour’d to deprive me of my Mistress, and must either quit the Lady, or vindicate your Pretensions.

[4.67] Loveworth. (Aside.) Ha, ha, ha, Hillaria has Banter’d the Fool, I’le Humour him a little—That matter, Captain, we may decide more Calmly—He who has Serv’d her longest, best deserves her: If we can’t agree, let the Lady determine it by her own Inclinations.

[4.68] Squib. (Aside.) Is he thereabouts, I’le pursue the point—Sir, The Temple of the bright Hillaria, I have made the Repository of my Affections; and whoever dares dispute the Legality of my Title, and not justifie what he says, Is a Son of an Irish, a Fool, and a pitiful Coward.

[4.69] Loveworth. Nay, Captain, If you Brand me with the Name of Coward, my Honour’s concern’d; now I will Fight.                                                   [Draws.

[4.70] Squib. (Looks Surpriz’d.)—Will you Fight—(Puts up his Sword.) Then gi’me thy Hand; now I won’t Fight with you; we Men of Reciprocal Courage shou’d never Fight, but a Cowardly Rascal ought to be Kick’d and Posted.

[4.71] Loveworth. No, Captain, I seldom draw my Sword; but once provok’d, ’tis never drawn in vain; now you shall Fight.

[4.72] Squib. (Aside.) O Lord, What shall I do now—Come, come, Mr. Loveworth, Friends shou’d never quarrel—The Lady’s yours; I have a Stock of Mistresses, and can afford you half a Score at any time.

[4.73] Loveworth. Nay, Captain, If you won’t Fight, I must return you Coward, and Fool agen, with that, that, and that.                                                                                  [Kicks him.

[4.74] Squib. ’Tis very well, Mr. Loveworth, mighty well, superlatively well; indeed, look you, Sir, I shall meet you one dusky Evening in St. James’s Park.

[4.75] Loveworth. And what will you do then, Sir?

[4.76] Squib. Why, Sir, I’le order two or three of the Sentry to fling you into the Canal.

Loveworth. Will you so, Sir.                                                 [Kicks him agen.

[4.77] Squib. Nay, now—I will walk off.                                                   [Exit.

[4.78] Loveworth.    Thus flash of Valour, gilds the least Pretence,
                        Thus Lawyers Bawl, and Rise by Impudence,
                        Huffing for Courage passes, Noise for Sense,
                        By all Appearance, how the World’s deceiv’d,
                        Grave Dulness, Wisdom, Canting, Zeal’s believ’d,
                        But were Desert, like Metal to be try’d,
                        And each Pretender shou’d the Test abide,
                        How many a Hero huffs without a Soul?
                        How many a Statesman wou’d be found a Fool.

The End of the Fourth Act.

[back to top]

ACT V.
SCENE, Continues.

Enter Woodcock, and Reynard.

[5.1] Woodcock. I tell you, Mr. Reynard, My Daughter shall have no London Husband; I must have a Man that understands Farming, and will Improve my Estate, raise Portions for younger Children, and yet double it to the Eldest—Whereas your Town Gentlemen Spend more in a Month than they Receive in a Quarter; know nothing of their Lands, ’till they come to Assign, and Set over; And I don’t believe there’s an Estate at Court, but is Mortgag’d to an Alderman in the City.

[5.2] Reynard. (Aside.) How perverse is Age? One may sooner Civilize a Satyr, Convert a Jew, or reduce a Woman from her Pride and Vanity, than persuade an Old Fellow out of a rooted Obstinacy—But Mr. Woodcock, you have Reason, and shou’d Argue exceptionally, the Age may be Extravagant enough; But d’you think it impossible for the Town to afford Men of Conduct and good Management?

[5.3] Woodcock. Not impossible, I grant you; but you may as well look for Cleanliness in Scotland, Mony in France, or Wit and Manners at Amsterdam, as Sobriety in London—To be plain, You are People of no Principles, you have neither Religion, nor common Morality; and I desire, Mr. Reynard, you’ll desist your Pretensions: In short, I have engag’d a Person, fitter for my Daughter’s Purpose, and more agreeable to my Temper.

[5.4] Reynard. What, The Romney-Marsh Gentleman, Humphry Hobble Esq; Ha, ha, ha.

[5.5] Woodcock. (Aside.) How the Devil came he to know him?

Reynard. Mr. Woodcock, to convince you; You have a wrong Notion of us bred in Town, I’le be Frank—Your Daughter, and I, are agreed; She receiv’d the Countryman only to Humour you, and told me all that pass’d between ’em; how he Loll’d in his Chair like a drunken Justice, Entertain’d her with a wretched Old Song, and Grunted out his Love after that Boorish manner, she fancy’d her self in a Hogsty—Since you see, Mr. Woodcock, I won’t abuse you, allow me Generous, and Ratifie our Affections.

[5.6] Woodcock. (Aside.) The Curse of Maidenheads light upon the whole Sex—Mr. Reynard, I must confess, you are a very generous Person, and to return your Generosity, I will this moment Marry my Daughter to the Countryman—I shall spoil her Fop Intreague; that Women shou’d be such Fools to fall in Love with Perriwigs, and Lac’d Coats; but ’twill be so, let a Man show but a fair outside, they don’t care if he has no more Brains than a Grand Jury.                                                                             [Exit.

[5.7] Reynard. Ha, ha, ha, Now for my Country Face agen.

Enter Loveworth.

Ned Loveworth sauntring about like an Idle Courtier, or a poor Poet in search of a Dinner.

[5.8] Loveworth. ’Tis true, Frank, I have no Heiresses to follow, nor cross Misers to attack; but I have a Mistress too, and a very whimsical one; for tho’ she admits me to Squire her about, she won’t suffer me to mention Love.

Reynard. She’ll Consent the sooner; Women seldom care to talk of Love, ’till they resolve upon the Action, because they hate to be Tantaliz’d.

Loveworth. Well, my Dear Friend, and how go Matters?

[5.9] Reynard. Swimingly, swimingly, Ned; I assum’d all the Clownishness imaginable; No true Peasant, bred amongst Cattle in the Wild o’ Kent, or the Peake in Derbyshire, cou’d have had a more Rustical Air.

[5.10] Loveworth. Thou wer’t always a good Mimick Frank: But can’st thou really lay aside all Conscience, and Honesty, and have the face to Marry this Lady, and Bubble the Yeoman out of such a prodigious Estate?

[5.11] Reynard. Conscience, and Honesty, ha ha ha, thou shou’dst ha’ been born seven Ages ago, those things are obliterated now-a-days, and for the Face o’the matter, a Man of Intreague must have a Face for every thing, the Women indeed, are easily subdu’d, Coquet Ladies like Hillaria, you win with Mimicry and Scandal; an Old Maid that’s miserably pitted with the Small-pox, you must praise her Youth, and Beauty; to a young Creature you must talk Modestly, to a Widow, Mathematically, but to surprize Old Fathers that inspect our Designs, requires a Masterpiece of Nature—To deceive a Country Yeoman, I’m a Clown you see—To please a rich Sergeant, I cou’d be a spruce Barrister, come to the Court powder’d beyond a Side-Box Beau, give a Hem, and cry, May it please you my Lard, and you Gentlemen of the Jury—Nay, to Curry with a Superstitious Old Uncle, I cou’d put on a precise, Conventicle-Face, and look as mortify’d as your Sneaking Citizens do of late, since the Downfal of the Whig-Party. In short, Ned, If you wou’d rise in the World, you must have a Face for ev’ry thing—Why the Women give us that Example, who, they say, are arriv’d to that Perfection in Washes, Pastes, and Powders, they’ll alter their Looks so, you shan’t know ’em; And I heard of a fine Town-Lady, who Painted her Face with that variety, she was pick’d up by a Purblind Lord, Six Nights together for a fresh Mistress—But, Dear Ned, excuse me, thou know’st the Exigence of my Affairs, a Moment’s trifling might be fatal.

[5.12] Loveworth. Success attend you, Sir.                                           [Exeunt differently.

Enter Woodcock and Belinda.

[5.13] Woodcock. Belinda, I must talk with you—(Aside.) But why shou’d I examine her? She’ll tell me a hundred Lies with as Grave a Face as a Presbyterian Divine, when he preaches up Conscience, and slides a silver Spoon into his Pocket—’Tis impossible to know that Sex, they’ll melt us with their Tears, and in the same Breath laugh at our Easiness; At Church, they’ll be very Devout with one Eye, and Ogle a Fellow with t’other; and they have more Tricks, Querks, and Evasions to avoid Speaking Truth, than an Attorney has in drawing an Answer in Chancery—Belinda, What think you of the new Gallant I brought you?

[5.14] Belinda. If my Approbation, Sir, wou’d not Create in you an Aversion to him, I cou’d tell you, I like him, like him infinitely, beyond any Man in particular, and the whole Sex in general.

[5.15] Woodcock. (Aside.) If she be real, this pleases me indeed; this is News beyond an Express from Italy—’Tis my Request then, that you Marry him instantly.

[5.16] Belinda. Most willingly: The Moment that I saw him, a sudden chilness seiz’d me ev’ry where; that chilness as suddenly chang’d into a pleasing Warmth; the Warmth e’re since keep settl’d at my Heart, and my Thoughts fix’d on him.

[5.17] Woodcock. (Aside.) This is Love; but her Youth’s unacquainted with these Symptoms, I have felt ’em formerly my self—This Hour then he shall be yours—(Aside.) But shou’d’nt I first satisfy my self with the Reality of this Estate he pretends to have—It must be so, he lives too far from London to be a Cheat—. Now, what an impudent Rogue is this Reynard, to pretend a Contract with my Daughter, when she all the while Dies for Squire Hobble— But then, how shou’d Reynard know what pass’d between the Countryman, and her, unless the Devil helpt him to’t; like enough, truly, I believe most o’your Town-Sparks are very intimate with Alderman Belzibub— Come, Belinda,— (Aside). Still I suspect a Trick, but if she Marries him, there can be none; if she can Cheat the Priest, she’ll Cheat the Devil.                                                              [Exeunt.

Enter Squib.

[5.18] Squib. Pox of his Courage, I say; I shall be kick’d about by ev’ry Chocolate-House Beau, now they know I won’t Fight; How shall I be Reveng’d? Shall I venture to Challenge him— No, — What shall I do then? Oh! I shall meet him in the publick Dancing-Room, and I’le Sit above him.—But now, How can I appear before my Mistress? ’Tis no matter; There’s Penelope with a better Fortune; and I cou’d like her were she not so forward; People naturally Slight those that are in Love with ’em, tho’ shou’d I have an Aversion to all the Women that are in Love with me, I might despise the whole Sex; therefore I will Marry her.

Enter Mrs. Goodfellow, and Penelope.

[5.19] Mrs. Goodfellow. Sweet Captain, we have sought for you vehemently; we wanted your Company with us to Southborough.

[5.20] Squib. I have likewise, my fair Penelope, been upon the Chase for you, to inform you some Ladies here have a violent design upon my Person; and if you don’t enclose me presently, I shall be ravish’d from your Arms.

[5.21] Penelope. Lose my dear Captain, Aunt, Aunt, run for Doctor Dromedary, and let us be Married before the Sun reposes.                                                           [Exit Goodf.

[5.22] Squib. Now, Madam, we must make a mighty Appearance, and have a stately Bridal Equipage; all new Marry’d People of any Figure, keep a Coach the first year.

[5.23] Penelope. We must go a Visiting together, and to Hyde-Park together, and be extreamly Fond for a Month: Then, Captain, My Aunt, and I must go to the Artillery-Ground o’ Training Days, that the Soldiers may let off their Muskets, and cry, Heav’n Bless the Noble Captain’s Lady; and sure nothing is so pleasant as to frequent Places where one’s Husband has an Authority, that one may be very rude, and Affront Folks—But, Dear Captain, Let’s make haste; for shou’d you be Ravish’d from me now, I wou’d be more concern’d, than if I were Ravish’d my self.                             [Exeunt.

Enter Loveworth and Hillaria.

[5.24] Hillaria. Sure no Courtier was ever worse Plagu’d with a Petitioning Poet, than I am with you.

[5.25] Loveworth. Sure no Poet was ever more coldly receiv’d by a stately Courtier, than I am by you; But to prove my Constancy, Madam, Be as Cruel as you please, I’le never leave you, I’me resolv’d to follow you, Court you, and Address you, ’till you yield.

Hillaria. And while you continue to follow me, Court me, and Address me, I will never yield.

[5.26] Loveworth. Why?

[5.27] Hillaria. Because we Women love dearly to be follow’d, Courted, and Address’d; I must own, Mr. Loveworth, we do Cully your Sex ev’ry way; While you Court us, we make Spaniels of you; and when we have a Mind to render you more Contemptible, we make Husbands of you; and really you Lovers are meer Spaniels; for the worse you are us’d, the more you Fawn.

Loveworth. You know, Madam, You have Pow’r, and are resolv’d to Triumph.

[5.28] Hillaria. We know you are Fools, and are resolv’d to Laugh at you; but no more of this Chat, here’s Company.

Enter Woodcock Singing.

[5.29] Woodcock. Sing Old Sir Simon the King tol tol, &c.

[5.30] Loveworth. I’me glad to see you so merry, Mr. Woodcock, shan’t we rejoice with you too?

[5.31] Woodcock. With all my Heart, Mr. Loveworth,  I have just Marry’d my Daughter, and am resolv’d to Dedicate a whole Twelvemonth to Mirth, and Jollitry, I’le broach my six Hogs-heads of Stout, that were Brew’d in the Days of King Charles, and make the whole Country as Drunk, as at an Election of Burgesses.

[5.32]Hillaria. Shan’t we see your Son-in-Law, Sir?

[5.33] Woodcock. Presently, Madam, I left ’em but in the next Room to bill and coo a little—ha ha ha, what wou’d I give now Mr. Reynard were but here, to Laugh at him a little, and let him see our Ale in the Country has inspir’d us with more Cunning, than all his Burgundy in Town.

Loveworth. Oh! Here they come.

Reynard, and Belinda, Enter, and Kneel to Woodcock.

[5.34] Reynard. Your Blessing Sir?

[5.35] Woodcock. Mr. Reynard!

Reynard. The very same, Son-in-Law to you, and Partner to this Lady, by your own Choice and Approbation.

[5.36] Woodcock. Here’s a Son of a Copper-Smith—But, Daughter, Belinda, what means this Stuff, did not I give you to the Countryman, and did not the Priest join your Hands, call in Doctor Dromedary?

Belinda. You did, Sir, Commanded by you, and prompted by my own Inclination, with a double Joy I receiv’d him for my Husband.

Reynard. To humour you, Sir, I was that Countryman, and to please this Lady am now Mr. Reynard agen.

[5.37] Woodcock. Why then Mr. Reynard is the Devil incarnate.

Loveworth. I find, Mr. Woodcock your Country Ale has clouded your understanding a little.

[5.38] Woodcock. (Aside) Hell and Furies, how have a been abus’d, impos’d on by a vain fluttering Fellow, and Jilted by my own Daughter—D’sdeath, I shall be a Jest to the whole Country. Mr. Reynard, I own you have been too hard for me, your Wit has gain’d her, now let your Wit maintain her, my Estate deserves a better Usage.

[5.39] Hillaria. Nay now, Mr. Woodcock, I must interpose.

Woodcock. You, I have a mighty respect indeed for your Sex.

Hillaria. I fancy, Sir, you never spent much time in France—(Aside) A true English Clown.

[5.39] Loveworth. But, Mr. Woodcock, your Experience shou’d consider these frailties, she still respects you as her Father, but neither Duty, Friendship, nor Interest can prevail, against the Force of Love.

[5.40]Woodcock. No, I have a Sense of Money, and cannot bear to see it us’d like Dirt; before my Estate shall be spent in glaring Liveries, and feed an Empty Pride, I’le fit out a Regiment to help carry on the War, and Nobly spend it in my Country’s Service; this moment I discard her; since Blind Love chang’d her State, Blind Chance direct her Course—But who am I thus Using? My Daughter? Who then must Share my Wea’th? If I reject my Child, my only Child—Nature, Nature, why d’you rack me thus.

[5.41] Belinda. We’ll settle in the Country, Sir, Dispose us as you please, pardon but this Offence and own us yours.                                                                          [Weeps.

[5.42] Woodcock. How easily Tears flow from Womens Eyes; after a Voluntary Disobedience, they Calm our Passion with a feign’d Repentance; Her Sorrow moves me tho’ I know ’tis false. Can I dissolve this Marriage? No, Mr. Reynard, take her; as you use her, you may hope my Favour. My Personal Estate shall descend to her, my Real Estate I’le Settle on your Eldest Son, whom I expect to breed under my own Eye, and according to my own humour—’tis very hard, if you deny me that—On those Conditions, Heav’n bless you both.

[5.43] Reynard. I have various reasons, Sir, to value your Esteem, and endeavour to oblige you, My Interest, my Love to this Lady, and chiefly to persuade you from a prejudice against Men of Education—To gain a Mistress, we’re allow’d deceit, in all things else you shall find me a Man of Honour.

Loveworth. Now, Madam, we may Congratulate your Happiness.

[5.44] Hillaria. (Aside to Belinda.) You, see Belinda, my Words are verify’d, ’tis observ’d, Fathers Love us better than we do them, these Eruptions will occasion some Conflict, but ’tis soon over, except it be some very cross old Fellows, who when they’re disoblig’d, won’t part with their Money, but they Die the sooner, and one has it then—Mr. Woodcock, this Action has won my Favour strangely; I must extol your Goodness; nay, I shall speak well of you behind your Back, (Aside) and that’s what I never did of any body yet.                                                             [Musick without.

[5.45] Reynard. Bless us, what mighty Procession have we here, that all the Musick in the Place is muster’d up?

The Musicians enter Playing, Squib and Penelope, affectedly humouring Time, Mrs. Goodfellow following.

Parturiunt Montes nascetur ridiculus Mus.

[5.46] Squib. Gentlemen, and Ladies, my Dear, and I come to acquaint you with our Nuptials.

[5.47] Hillaria. Penelope, and the Captain Marry’d!

Penelope. Why really, Madam, my Dear, and I found our selves so very fit for one another, Nature woudn’t let us be any longer asunder.

Squib. Sure no Pair were ever so well match’d as my Dear and I.             [Kissing.

[5.48] Penelope. Sure no Pair were ever so fond as my Dear, and I.

[5.49] Hillaria. (Aside) Sure no Pair were ever so affected as my Dear and I, is there any thing so fulsome as a new Marry’d Couple, that play the Fool, and kiss before Company?

[5.50] Reynard. (Aside) I shall marr their Joy presently—But here comes soft Mr. Maiden mortifi’d to the last degree: for after all his Musick, Painting, and other fine accomplishments, he’s discover’d to have no Estate.

[5.51] All. No Estate, ha, ha, ha.

[5.52] Reynard. Some Gentlemen it seems, pleas’d with his Vanity, buz’d a plausible Story in his Ears, and brought him down hither to make him ridiculous.

[5.53] Hillaria. Poor Mr. Maiden! But ’tis many a Beau’s Case, to build a mighty Appearance on a very slender Foundation. The Greatest Beaus we have about Town, now are Milliners, Mercers Lawyers Clerks, and ’tis such upstart Fellows that ruins so many poor Tradesmen; for amongst ’em all you’ll scarce find a Periwig that’s paid for.

Enter Maiden.

[5.54] Maiden. What a Pox, must I go to the Change agen, and sell Gloves and Ribbons?

[5.55] Squib. No Estate, O Lord, Maiden, what will become of your Airs now?

[5.56] Belinda. What Pity ’tis, the fine Mr. Maiden, who does ev’ry thing so much like Quality, shou’d be forc’d to turn Mechanick.

[5.57]Woodcock. What will your Patchwork, and your Fillagree signify now, Friend without an Estate to keep your Follies in Countenance?

[5.58] Hillaria. Come, come, Mr. Maiden, ne’re be concern’d Riches are only to supply other Defects; your Graces may command a Lady with an Estate at any time.

[5.59]Maiden. Nay, whenever I marry, I don’t doubt of a good Fortune yet; when I was at the Change before, People us’d to call me handsome Mr. Maiden. I have a Brother too, so like me, no Body can distinguish us, and we us’d to cheat Folks, and lay it upon one another.

[5.60] Reynard. But the Captain here is more to be pitied, who instead of marrying into a great Family, and with a great Fortune, has made an Alliance with Mrs. Lime Juice, that keeps a Punch House in Long Acre, and her Neice Jenny Trapes, who being known by ev’ry Body in Town, thought to pass at Tunbridge for a Chast Penelope.

[5.61]Squib. Jenny Trapes—What that Carrotpated Jade that Lodges at the Corner of White Horse Alley.

[5.62] Reynard. The same indeed, only she has black’d her Hair with a Leaden Comb.

Squib. The Devil black her all over.

[5.63] All. Ha, ha, ha, Give you Joy Captain.

[5.64] Hillaria. Nay, really, I always took her for some such Creature, she has made no show since she came, but always trapish and dirty, like an Actress at a Morning Rehearsal.

[5.65] Maiden. Marry’d her! O Lard, Captain, what will become of your Airs now?

[5.66] Squib. Sir—(aside.) I have study’d Intreaguing to a fine Purpose, to be trick’d at last, by an old Brandy-bottle.

[5.67] Reynard. Nay, they have cheated one another, for the Captain, whom I had a particular Reason to enquire after, instead of being a worthy Officer, and a Man of Substance, is found to be one of the Handicraft Gentlemen that sit cross’d Legg’d six Stories high, spoil a World of good Cloth, by putting it into an ill Shape, and stuff up long Bills with Canvas, Buckram, and Stay-tape.

All. A Taylor, Ha, ha, ha.

[5.68] Reynard. We always fancy’d he had a shambling Air, but Yesterday as he drew out his Handkercheif, he happen’d to drop a Measure upon the Walks, and discover’d all.

[5.68] Woodcock. What a Misfortune ’tis so renown’d a Warriour shou’d dwindle into a Louse Cracker.

[5.69] Hillaria. I’m sorry Captain, I cou’d’nt receive you for a Husband, a Taylor’s Wife you know wou’d sound but odly at Tunbridge, but I’ll be sure to send for you, when I have occasion for a new Jump.

[5.70] Maiden. A Taylor, nay, now I will banter him—Captain, pray how many Yards o’Cloth must you have to make my Monkey a pair of Breeches?

[5.71] Squib. ’Dsblood, Sir.

[5.72] Maiden. (Starts.) Now the Duce take me if I an’t afraid of him still, tho’ I know he’s but the Ninth part of a Man.

[5.73] Reynard. Well, Captain, you may keep your Title for all this; Taylors, Shomakers, and Barbers may serve for Militia Officers, since you only fight Mock-battles, and represent what a Captain shou’d be.

[5.74] Squib. Look you, Sir, ’tis natural for us that dwell in a Garret to be a little high minded, therefore I came down to Tunbridge, in hopes to make my Fortune, but since I find my Expectations frustrated, I candidly take my leave, and Gentlemen, and Ladies, when you come to Town, if you’l favour me with a Visit at the Doublet in Barbakin, ’twill be gratefully acknowledg’d by your very humble Servant Ezekiel Coxcumber.

All, Ha, ha, ha.

[5.75] Woodcock. Come, good People, some Neighbours of mine shall divert you on this Occasion, tho’ I design’d it an Entertainment suitable to a Rural Marriage.

[5.76] Hillaria. (To Goodfellow. and Penelope.) Ladies, Virtuous Ladies, you’ll not deprive us of your Company, Ladies.

[5.77] Goodfellow. I ne’re was out of Countenance ’till now, I’ll Ship off all I have, and run to Ireland.

[5.78] Penelope. I’ll go hang my self in White Horse Alley.               [Exeunt.

An Entertainment.

[5.79]Loveworth. Well, Madam, now you see other People coupl’d, what say you to a Dance?

[5.80] Hillaria. Marriage, Mr. Loveworth, is too solemn a Dance, I’m for a Frisk a Minuet or so, but I hate the Brawls, tho’ really ’tis like a Feast, and to see People eat heartily wou’d make one fall to, tho’ one had no Stomach—(Aside.) Now I find he’s desperately in Love, I’ll give my self an Air of Generosity—but Mr. Loveworth, since we come to talk seriously o’the matter, I must deal ingenuously with you, the Report you have of my Fortune is utterly False—My Parents were mighty well-bred People, and what they shou’d have laid up for my Portion, they spent in my Education; I have a great deal of good Humour, and all that, but no Money; I’le tell you one thing, I am a Maid, but don’t Expose me; therefore if you can like a Woman with only the Cloaths to her Back, and a Dozen good Smocks or so, I must own a very great Affection for your Estate.

[5.81] Loveworth. Hang Fortune, Madam, Your Wit and Beauty may Command the World, I’de Marry you tho’ you had’nt so much as Fig-Leaves.

[5.82] Hillaria. That’s very kind; Take me then, and since I bring you nothing, I’le manage your Estate so prudently, I’le save you a Fortune, and in Twenty Years time you shall know no difference—Now did I depend upon Rambling about, Chastity, and Clean-Linnen, and thought not of being that Sluttish thing a Wife these Seven Years, but,—ugh, These Men, when they get an Ascendant over us, they turn and wind us just as they please.

[5.83] Reynard. Sister, I approve your Choice, and wish you much Satisfaction.

[5.84] Loveworth. Hillaria, his Sister.

[5.85] Reynard. My own Dear Sister; We were both cast in the same Mould.

[5.86] Belinda. Hillaria!

[5.87] Hillaria. Belinda!

[5.88]Reynard. There is an Estate too belonging to our Family under some Incumbrances, which a little of Mr. Woodcock’s Assistance might Discharge, and raise a genteel Fortune for my Sister.

[5.89] Woodcock. Not a Souse, Mr. Reynard, ’till you have shown your Skill, produce me a Grandson, and you bind me yours.

[5.90] Hillaria. (Aside, to Reynard.) You must rest contented, Brother, and resolve to Study his Temper: ’Tis not for the weak to oppose the strong: We naturally Flatter and Dissemble for our Interest; therefore Coaks him all you can, and when you have Wheedl’d him out of one half of his Estate, go to Law with him for the rest.

[5.91]Reynard. (To Woodcock.) You need not doubt my Performance, Sir.
                        Beauty it self sufficiently prevails,
                        And Gold excites us oft, when Beauty fails,
                        But, with a double force, our Skill we prove,
                        When two such Charms unite to prompt our Love.

FINIS.

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