Text of the Play
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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.
MEN
Loveworth, |
{A Man of an Estate, in Love
with Hillaria,}
|
Mr. Mills. |
Reynard, |
{A Gentleman that lives
by his Wits,}
|
Mr. Wilks. |
|
{A Yeoman of Kent,}
|
Mr. Johnson. |
|
{A Fluttering, Fop-Militia Captain,}
|
Mr. Pinkethman. |
Maiden,
|
{A Nice-Fellow, that values himself upon
|
|
|
all
Effeminacies,}
|
Mr. Bullock. |
WOMEN
Belinda, |
{Daughter to Woodcock,} |
Mrs. Rogers. |
Hillaria, |
{Sister to Reynard,
a Railing, Mimicking |
|
|
Lady,} |
Mrs. Verbruggen. |
Mrs. Goodfellow, |
{A Lady that loves her Bottle} |
Mrs. Powell. |
Penelope, |
{Her Neice, an Heroick Trapes,} |
Mrs. Moor. |
Lucy, |
Maid to Hillaria. |
Mrs. Lucas. |
Singers, Dancers, and other Attendants.
The SCENE, TUNBRIDGE.
Time, Twelve Hours.
[back to top]
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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