THE NOVELTY. Every Act a Play. BEING A Short Pastoral, Comedy, Masque, Tragedy, and Farce after the Italian manner. As it is Acted at the New-Theatre IN Little Lincolns Inn-fields. By His Majesty's Servants.
Written by Mr. Motteux, and other hands.
‘Haud facile emergunt — Juvenal.’
LONDON. Printed for Rich. Parker at the Vnicorn under the Piazza of the Royal Exchange, and Peter Buck at the sign of the Temple, at the Temple-gate in Fleetstreet. 1697.
Lately publish'd, A Foot and no Plot, a Comedy by Mr. Dennis.
In a few days will be publish'd, The Intreagues of Versailles: Or, a Jilt in all Humours, a Comedy by Mr. Durfey.
TO Charles Caesar, of Benington, Esq
NOvelties, and their Introducers, have generally most need of powerful Patrons: Yet while I make bold to Dedicate to You a Dramatic Entertainment, that may be said to want a precedent, I dare not presume to recommend it to Your Protection. There are some ill Customs in the Business of the Pen, as well as in that of the Sword. Methinks a Dedicator, who strives to engage a Man of Honor blindly to take his Part against those that tax him with Faults, resembles a mad [...]llow, who would draw in a Gentleman to be his Second, upon a trivial quarrel, in which 'tis great odds but he is in the wrong. In either Duel, instead of getting satisfaction, both Principals and Assistants are often wounded, and many times the latter most. Neither the Fondness of a Parent, nor even the Vanity of an Author, can make me think any thing that may be call'd mine in the following Sheets worthy the honor of Your Patronage; and [Page] the rest, for which I am oblig'd to others, its Merit will, I hope, secure it a kind Reception.
Yet be pleas'd, Sir, to permit the whole to appear grac'd and countenanc'd with Your Acceptance: I will not say, it will fright Envy and Ill-nature from using this as ill as they do better Pieces; for I find, they are no respectors of persons, and far from being so fearful as some Writers wou'd have them be thought by their Patrons, they make nothing of a Breach of Priviledge, misusing even what claims the Protection of Lords, nay, Majesty itself. But this I dare affirm that Your Name will advance the Reputation of these Scenes; for those Persons that are acquainted with your Character (and there are but few of the better sort but know and respect it) will not be able to imagin that any one durst presume to Dedicate to You an undeserving Piece; and shou'd they mislike this in the reading, they will, I fancy be inclin'd to suspect their own Judgment, rather than that of the Writer.
But, Sir, while this may protect me from the Severity of others, it cou'd never secure me from Your juster Censure, were not Your Goodness as celebrated as Your Judgment, and Your indulgent Disposition to pardon Faults as great as Your Skill to discover them. You pity those unfortunate Men upon whom the Curse of Poetry is entail'd, kindly considering, that a Muse, like a Mistress, tho pleasing at first, is seldom long so to the man that's wedded to her, or indeed to any others, especially when he's forc'd to reduce her to be a Houshold Drudge This, Sir, emboldens me to hope, that if You condemn the weakness of my Performance, You'll at least approve my Zeal; since I do not offer this to You as a Thing worthy Your Acceptance; but merely as an opportunity to publish the Veneration [Page] I have for your extraordinary Merit. Were it not much more difficult to commend than it is to admire, I wou'd now, like some modern Writers, assume a Poetic Licence to turn an Epistle Dedicatory into a Panegyric; Conscious that what is Flattery in some, might be construed just praise when said of You. Neither shou'd I be stinted to the Encomium of Generosity, tho that's the Soul of every noble endowment, and a virtue seldom forgot in Dedications. Yours; like the Sun's kind influence, is still dispens'd, even while the power that exerts it is unseen; and therefore a bare hint of so diffusive and known a Good wou'd be sufficient; the rather, because I shou'd have a large field for praise in Your other Virtues; many of which are naturally inseparable from that. But shou'd I enlarge on the sweetness and evenness of Your Temper, on Your engaging and discreet behaviour with Your Equals, Your condescending affability to Your Inferiors, Your Humanity, Your Moderation in a flourishing Youth, and what's more difficult in an ample Fortune, Your knowledge of Men as well as of Books, and every accomplishment that gains You the esteem of our Sex, and the Love of the other, Your friends might yet justly accuse me of having said too little, while Your Modesty alone wou'd tax me with having said too much.
I had almost forgot its strict injunctions, and my promise not to make You uneasy with Your Praises; so difficult it is to be silent when a pleasing Theme and opportunity combine to make us speak. Yet what I must deny my self, will, I hope, be the task of better Pens. Why may not Deucalion's and Pyrrha's being safe upon Parnassus, when the rest of the world perished by the Deluge, be thought [Page] to imply that the Muses friends will be preserv'd, while others shall be swept away by inundations of ignorance and oblivion? if so, your Name shall live, and may even transmit this faint essay to posterity.
But tho I must curb my fancy, I may give a loose to my wishes, for a long and happy Continuance of that more real Life which you so wisely know how to use. May your Years still rowl on smoothly, and attended with new pleasures; may your Desires be crown'd, and may I still be happy, in being thought,
The PREFACE.
I Hope several things will induce you to pass gently over the Defects in this entertainment. I was put on this bold Attempt, being hinder'd from giving you a better Play, which, waiting its Turn, cannot appear till next Winter. Most of the best Actors being engaged on ther Plays, I could not expect they would study mine. This made me think of something that might be got up by the by.
I writ the Masque of Hercules, and Mr. Eccles having set it with his usual Success, and yet more masterly than my Mars and Venus, if possible, I prevail'd with the ingenious Mr. J. Oldmixon to give me a short Pastoral, while I scribbl d over a Farce after the Italian Manner, and an Imitation of part of a diverting French Comedy of one Act. (for such Plays are very common in Foreign Parts.) Then I wanted nothing but a Tragedy to have something of every kind. But, as I said already, the best Tragedians were engaged in other Plays.
At last bethought my self of one already studied, called The Unnatural Brother, written by an ingenious Gentleman, and acted 6 Months ago, tho not with the success it deserv'd.
Yet the latter Part was extremely applauded: So I was perswaded to make bold with it, as I do, with thankful Acknowledgement; the rather, because I could easily contract the most moving Part of the Story into the Compass of one Act, with some Additions; yet without mutilating my Author's Sense, for which I have all the Veneration imaginable.
All this was done in a very short time, the warm Season threatening me with your Absence: And I got those Actors I could to study and rehearse for me by the by: But among them I must particularly mention Mr. Bowen, who has been singularly diligent in getting by heart a large Part, while he was studying several others.
I will only add, that you are not to expect a Plot in the Pastoral; That's chiefly to amuse you a while by its Innocence, and the softness of the Verse. As for the Masque, if it should be said that I have not altogether kept close to the Story of Hercules; the Judicious know, that a Poetic Licence will bear me out.
The foregoing Lines were published as a Preface to that Masque, some few Copies of which were printed for the use of the Audience, the first day of the Novelty's being Acted. I have nothing to add, but that altogether it has met with better success than I cou'd expect, since, (thanks to my friends) it was not only beneficial to me on the third, but also on the sixth day, and that in a Season when the Town is most empty. I know I ought to make amends, and I fancy I am not without hopes of doing better, since I have not the vanity of some, who think they have written well, when their bad Plays have succeeded better than they deserved.
You have here the Farce as 'twas Acted the first day; the latter part being left out afterwards; some few of the Audience having been offended at it, but more at the length of that Act. I have seen most of the things that were mislik'd, much applauded when Acted by Harlequin and Scaramouch. But it must be own'd, that many fooleries pleas'd when grac'd by those incomparable Mimics which may not suit with the Genius of our Stage. The whole will I hope, at least be thought inoffensive, as is all that I have written hitherto; for I have always been of Opinion, that a Writer cannot be too careful in public Entertainments, tho we live in a licentious Age.
PROLOGUE,
ACT I. THYRSIS. A Pastoral.
- Thyrsis,
- Mr. Scudamore.
- Damon,
- Mr. Bayle.
- Montano.
- Mr. Arnold.
- Dorinda,
- Mrs. Lassels.
- Cleomira.
- Mrs. Boman.
Satyr, Shepherds and Shepherdesses.
SCENE a Green before a Wood.
I Shall be known.
He chang'd not till he thought you dead.
See—He that makes me sick appears.
No.
Stay, my Cleomira!
Stay!
Hold! You fright the Nymph away.
I cou'd fight,
And so cou'd I.
I cou'd bleed.
And I cou'd dye:
I can —
I have nothing else to plead.
Must I go too?
Oh! Thyrsis.
Dorinda.
Dorinda lives!
Oh how, Montano? Let me know,
To sing Dorinda's welcom home.
My Sister here disguis'd!
The same.
Oh say, when, how, and whence you came?
ACT II. All without Money. A short Comedy.
- Needmore, a Beau much in debt, given to treating.
- Mr. Scudamore.
- Speedwel, his Man, a Witty, Sawcy Valer.
- Mr. Bower.
- Theodosia, Needmore's Mistress.
- Mrs. Prince.
- Brother to Theodosia.
- Mr. Bayle.
- Freeman, Needmore's friend.
- Mr. Arnold.
- Clara, Theodosia's friend.
- Mrs. Bud.
- Dorothy, Theodosia's Woman.
- Mrs. Lawson.
- Le S [...]upé, a French Trai [...]e [...]r.
- Mr. Freeman.
Bayliffs, Taylor, Cooks men, &c.
SCENE the Pall-Mall.
HEy! Speedwell! Where the Devil's this Blockhead?
At your heels, Sir, light enough in Belly and Purse not to lag far behind. Well, at last your Creditors have their turn; you've made them walk, and now they make you run.
The worst is, I have been balk'd where ever I went, and can't raise a penny.
Alas, Sir, my heart akes for you; I'm sure my Legs do with following you; with much fear, but no money, a heavy heart, and a light pair of heels, you ve made as many doubles to day as any hunted Hare; the truth is, you've scap'd a whole Kennel of Hounds.
Ay, a damn'd Pack of Dogs had me in the Wind.
'Tis well I had, you in the Wind too, for I shou'd certainly have been poyson'd in some of those damn'd Alleys we went thro. Well, I'm bound to pray for Persumers the longest day I live: Therefore, sweet Sir, if you have any kindness for your poor Servant, Pay honest Signor Pulvilio the first.
We have gone thro some unpleasant By-ways, I confess.
Some did you say? Why, no Sculking Scribbler, or Tally-man goes thro more in a week, I think. Then, in the streets, if you but spy'd some one of your many Duns, you turn'd short, run like the Devil, or stept into some house, to ask fo [...] some body, who, to your knowledge, was not there: Presently after push'd forward; then, to avoid another, you started, wheel'd about, or made a shew of looking on a Wall; now whisk'd thro an Inn, next thro some blind passage, till, like a Ship still tacking about, you at last just got — to the place from whence you came.
The best Masters of Ships sometimes can do no more.
You're like a Master of a Ship indeed, for your Rigging and whole Cargo belong to other men.
To the Devil and your Dogship.
I beg the Devil's Pardon, and yours, Sir, I had forgot my self.
Yes, you sawcy insulting Rascal, and always do.
I know it, Sir; had I not, I had left you long ago, when you first saluted me thus for advising you to keep in compass, as my old Master order'd me. Well, I des [...]ve it all, wicked Rogue as I am, for breaking the many Oaths I've made to quit your service—But I am too generous to leave a Gentleman in distress; and therefore I'll stay till I see you clear, if possible; for, as for the Salary you owe me, I scarce look for't.
You need not; you are Knave enough to have cheated me of more.
But I was Fool enough to let you cheat me again the lawful way of Loan Well, I give that over too; only remember, Sir, a Man may cause his own Dog to bite him; and when I leave you, all your Creditors, especially Monsieur Le Diablo, will have more power over you than ever.
Sayst thou so? Well then, for thy good Nature I will reward thee.
Ha, ha, hah! Wh [...]t makes your hand there? To my knowledge you ha'nt one Cross left. Your breeches are now in the fashion, a damn'd deal of Pocket, but no Lining [...] You [...]ould have taken a Coach else, but that you fear'd being serv'd as you [...] was, keep it all day for want of Money to discharge it, and be oblig'd to bilk it at night. Your Watch too is gone, and your fine Snuff-Box. The Painted one I have secur'd [
] for the pretty Posture's sake, or it had been gone at Play-last night— But here 'tis for you, Sir.
There, Sir! you love Snuff I perceive.
Ay, but not so much at once tho. So! Farewell Orangerie and Bergamotte. Item half a Crown for that; which puts me in mind of about seven pound due for Snuff, Cards, and Chocolate: And the Fruit-womans Bill too of four pounds odd money, as conscionable as a Pothecary's. I don't think there's a Chair-man or Coach man you don't owe Money to. I dare say you're already in debt to the She-Farmers of the Side-Boxes in the Play-house.
Well, Rascal! What then? half the fine fellows in Town do as much—I shall be able to pay my Debts shortly.
E God, that won't be like half the fine Fellows in Town then — But I fear, the Money you expect will go like the rest, 'that is (like, half the fine Fellows in Town too) you'll scorn to pay a farthing of your Debts with it, but will wisely chuse to play it away. — Well, may I never see money again, if I [Page 12] believe a Coach and Six cou'd ha' drawn you off last night, till you had lost those fifty Guineas, and made your self a clear Gentleman.
'Tis true; and it plagues me; for I have invited Theodosia to sup with me here at my Lodgings to night.
So! The Devil ow'd you a shame, and he means to pay you. How do you think to treat 'em? — Ha! Let me see! There's a new Beau-Peruke! Pray, Sir, how much does that cost upon Rep?
Only 35 Guineas, Sir.
Zoons! That's more than head and all is worth. I'm afraid I shall see you in Jail for Perriwigs and Powder!—C'me, pull it off, Sir; pull it off, and put on that you tick'd fo [...] before this, and then?
What then?
What then! Why then, I'll pawn this and treat your Mistress.
Prithee take my head too.
A Beau's head! Nay then no Broker will take it in — Well, I find a good Wig is the very last Moveable [...] Beau will part with.
But without fooling, what's to be done now?
Nothing without fooling: Unless we can fool that testy Cook Le Soupe, your Guests must chew the Cod, and all of us go supperless to Bed.
You know I shall have a Bill from my Father within these ten days, and then I'll pay him; so tell him.
So you told him these ten months — alas, Sir, you modish people have no Almanacks, that makes you forget your selves, and play at Cards o' Sundays—But here comes Mr. Freeman: Be sure you strike him, he's your friend; and to make him more so, humour him, fawn on him, commend him: Flattery is a sort of bad Money, for which even the wisest often part part with good.
I came to look you.
My dear, dear Freeman! I'm heartily glad to see you. This is a kindness beyond my hopes. What can I serve you in? Speak, you know I'm always ready to serve my Friend, I'm open and free, and you may command me.
I thank you: Let affectation dwell at Court; I'm without somality, your friend.
'Twere a Crime to doubt it: But, Complements aside, pray let me know what brought you hither?
With all my heart.
I must know too.
You must know, I come to pass away this [...]ening with you.
So!
How unhappy am I, that you can't! You must pardon me, my dear Friend; for I expect Company tonight.
Yes, Theodosia: She told me so her self; and entreated me to bring Clara to sup with you too; of which I thought fit to give you notice, that you might not be surpriz'd.
More Guests! But 'twill be at his cost; or e'gad they're like to be worse surpriz'd.
Well, what say you to this matter.
Have a good heart, Sir.
You may be sure, you'll be all as welcom as I can make you.
E'gad the welcom he'll find, he's like to bring along with him
Then I'm resolv'd to be merry to night, and drown in Champaign a damn'd melancholic humour that hangs upon me.
Champaign and no Money, I don't like this beginning.
Can you have occasion to be melancholic, you who are the envy of the Men, and the Darling of the Women?
What a pox, hast thou lately been reading the Academy of Complements? If I did not know thou ha'st money, I should think thou ha'st a mind to borrow some of me.
Ten pound to a Supper he lends us none.
Whence proceeds then your being out of humour?
From that which makes every body so, I've parted with all my money the old way.
Oh! Now for a Cordial! 'Tis well, if he don't ask us to lend.
I'm heartily sorry for your loss.
So am I too, as I with for a Supper to night.
The loss is not much; 'tis the manner of it vexes me most, for I lost all running, without so much us turning a stake.
Sir, Sir, lend Mr Freeman 10 or 20 Guineas.
By no means, I shall have money to morrow.
Nay, Sir, you know my Master's always ready to serve his Friend, he's open and free, and you may command him.
I know it — But a pox o' Fortune I say, she deals us good or bad luck as she does Stations, or we Cards; Knaves, and Kings shuffled up together. I'm afraid there were Sharpers in the Company.
That's not unlikely; they get now into the best: for there are some of all Ranks. For this, I my self have now forsworn play; tho that's the way to find the days tedious, and lose one'-interest with half the Beau monde? But I find that playing on the square is like dealing on the square, the ready way to be undone. Yet do not curse Fortune, my friend; you should rather pray to her, she has been, and may be kinder to you.
No, if she's a female, as her sickleness proves her, by a spirit of contradiction, she'll be sure to be kindess to those that respect her least. Well, adieu till night! We'll come betimes.
Ay, sooner than welcom, I dare say.
Your Servant.
Faith, Sir, I'm afraid he smoak'd you.
I hope not. Yet friends when we're in prosperity cleave to us, as Quick-silver does to Gold; but forsake us alike in the fiery Tryal.
Ay, Sir; those are your Town friends: They're like your Town Wines and Town Wenches, e'gad you may try ten before you light on one that's right or sound.
Well, will you bethink your self how to bring me off from this handsomly?
I! I can't tell what to do in it.
What, then will you see me disgrac'd, and give Theodosia occasion to frown on me for a month together? Prithee try to get us something to eat.
'Tis vain, Sir; your Creditors are now no fools-Come along with me, and see if I lye; which if I do, may I be bound to pay your debts, and that I would not do for half an East India Bribe.
But how shall I get off?
E'ne do as Ladies do when they're in love with their Doctor, seign your self sick and take your bed.
Then they'll come to see what my Di stemperis, and finding I have no Fever, presently call for Supper.
Send for some eminent Physician, he'll order you some damn'd Drench and make you sick enough.
You know I dread Physick as I do Poyson.
Or a Bayliff - Ay, I had forgot that; there's scarce a Town Spark, but is as much set against Pills and Bolus, I think, as against Marriage and Repentance; and that makes 'em delay those three bitter Remedies to the last. Well then, suppose I pretended you were gone to fight a Duel.
How! shall a Gentleman pretend a Duel?
Why, 'tis as common now to pretend 'em as assignations; tho 'twere but to excuse the wounds get in a pleasanter sort of encounter.
But this false report would frighten Theodosia into real sickness.
Very good! Go on, I perceive you intend to be a man of your word.
No, prethee tell me what I must do?
S'death, Sir, I'd as soon undertake to get you off, when flaster'd, from a gaming Club, or chatting Mask in the Play-house.
Well, I will be wholly guided by thee.
Leave me then; I have a whim in my head may chance to set you free.
Prithee let me know it?
Ay, as we do a Prophecy, when it has taken effect.
Why will you hide it from me?
That it may be hid from other people — What, tell a Beau a secret? a Chambermaid would not do it.
But it may be some pitiful mean thing.
A mean thing, and I contrive it!
Let's consult about it together.
No consultations, Sir: Two will keep Councel if one be away.
I must submit then to your Will and Pleasure.
You should have consider'd before you had made the Invitation. 'Sbud, leave me to my self.
Methinks—
Leave me, I say; You disturb me worse than a talking Better does a busie Gamester.
Well, I must endure any thing as matters go now.
So! Now I command. This 'tis to serve an unthinking Master. I was kept to wait on his idleness at the Colledge, and must attend his extravagance in Town; till with a little more experience, I may set up for my self, get as much by rooking, as he has lost by fair play, and then look as big on him, as others formerly of my function do now on their Betters. But in the mean time my brains must work for his. Stay! I have it! I'll whip over to Theodosia's and put it in practice.
Oh! Is it you? What's your business?
I'd speak with your Lady.
Is your Business pressing.
Faith, not at all: I come to know when we may expect her, that Supper may be ready at her coming; for, you must know, Child, my Master makes no common entertainment to night.
I'm glad on't; I love feasting dearly.
Ay, your mouth waters at the very thoughts on't, like a Chaplain's preaching grace over a good Dinner.
But are you in earnest?
As you were when you lost your Maiden head.
This pleases me; I love your costly great Treats.
I understand you; you are always for great things. Come, confess, don't you love me a great deal;
Hang Love; let's talk of the Supper.
The best Love indeed is commonly after that. Well, ours will be an extraordinary Treat, let me tell you.
And let me tell you, I'll keep an extraordinary Stomach for't. Take care to pinch three or four Bottles of the choicest VVines, and secure some of the best Dishes for us; then if I dont love you, say I've nothing of a Lady's woman about me.
I commend thee. Girl, thy love is in thy Belly: where else indeed should it be?
Peace, I hear my Lady coming.
How now, Sir! What brings you hither?
My Master desires to know, Madam, at what hour you will please to honour him with your Company to night?
As soon as 'tis convenient: Too soon for him, tell him.
A Witch o' my Conscience, if I don't prevent it.
— But, Madam —
But what?
I should acquaint your Ladyship with something if I durst.
If you durst! Why, is it of such dangerous consequence? If it be, 'tis fit I should know.
True, Madam; but the danger is chiefly to me: If my Master should once come to know what I would fain tell you, murther would ensue.
Trust me, he shall not know it, as I have honour!
Ah! Madam; but 'tis very dangerous.
VVhat ails the fool? VVhat's dangerous? To trust a Lady of Quality?
Yes, on her woman's secrecy.
No, I'll engage for her. Prithee let's know it.
VVhy then, Madam, (but not a word!) Some rascally Neighbours having seen you twice or thrice coming from my Master's Lodgings, have been pleas'd to bestow some uncivil reflections on your Ladiship, for which I have likewise been pleas'd to bestow some blows on their Coxcombs.
VVhat a tale of a Roasted Horse the Rascal tell us! VVhat made you put my Lady in the head of this.
I only would caution her, that if she should receive some small affront as the past to or from us, she would take no notice of it, but to me; for my Master is certainly the most desperate man on such occasions, that ever 'scap'd the Law to his years.
No, no, to prevent the worst, I'll not go at all.
So! Now Master, thank my wit.
VVell then, Madam, since you won't go to Mr. Needmore's, let the Supper be brought hither, 'twill do as well.
With all my heart! Let 'em bring it.
O Lord! There this damn'd greedy Jade has over-reach'd me.
Stay I'll have no Supper brought. D'you hear! Let 'em bring none: twill be too much trouble on both sides.
Trouble! Why, nothing more easie, Madam.
Hold your prating. I say I will not go.
But how will you excuse your self?
I'll pretend I've the head-ach.
That will seem too sudden to be thought real.
Why so? It often comes suddenly; and I think 'tis the best pretence you can use. I'll go and back it.
But take care —
O! for that never trouble your self: Be you but secret, Madam.
I will.
So! now my Master comes off with flying Colours.
VVou'd thy Neck were broke! Thou shamming Rascal—I fancy this is one of his projects to hinder us of a good Supper.
Ay, but I fancy 'tis by his Masters encouragement, Freeman and Cle [...] are to sup there to night: Now it comes into my head, that Needmore thinks he can't so freely entertain Clara, if I am with 'em.
Do you doubt his love then, Madam!
I don't know; Men are inconstant, and Clara's handsom — VVell, I'm resolv'd I'll spoil their sport to night, for thither I will go.
SCENE Needmore's Lodgings.
Well, Sir, what do you think of my Conduct?
'Tis wonderful! Machiavel was but a Type of Speedwell.
Humh! This is some acknowledgment however.
Prethee haste now to Freeman, and desire him to tell Clara that Theodosia is taken ill, and the entertainment is put off.
Who the Devil could have imagin'd he had had so much sense! Aside. I'll about it instantly.
Excuse me to him.
You may be sure on't.
Tell him that —
Teach a Bully to swear, or a Gamester to cheat! I want none of your Instructions: What wou'd you have done had it not been for me? Well, when I dye (for I know I shall leave Money enough of my Wages in your hands) let me have a Marble Monument, and my Effigies at full length upon it, with these lines engrav'd at my Feet,
What rhimes to prop, hath? 'Sdeath here comes one will put me to a stop.
Bless me! what are you abroad, Madam? This Rascal told me —
Nay, the Rascal told you nothing but truth.
That you were taken with a violent pain in your head.
Ay; but 'tis over now; and I came out to divert my self with company.
See, Madam! a man caught by his Wife with her Woman cou'd not be more surpriz'd.
I wish it ben't too soon, Madam! I fear you may take cold. I wou'd advise you to let me wait on you back.
No, no, I'll run the risque of that: I mean to be your Guest to night.
Madam, the thoughts of you are an eternal feast to my Soul; think then what now your sight is But yet I am most unhappy that I have countermanded Supper upon notice of your indisposition.
No matter for Varieties; any little thing will serve my turn.
A little thing! I hate a little thing.
No, Madam, Mr. Needmore expects Madam Clara —
I did so, from your Ladyships Invitation; but upon the ill [...] sent to beg her not to come to night.
If this ben't all a trick, I never knew any.
One Dish will be enough; you need trouble your self [...]
But what, Madam, if Clara and Freeman should come?
Why, then lay the blame on me.
But one Dish, Madam, looks so rude, and disrespectful.
I tell you 'tis enough: Pray send for't; for here I mean to sup.
Ay, ay, pray do, Sir; you see my Lady is resolv'd on t. If you order'd three or four Dishes twou'd be ne re the worse; for we both love Suppers.
Ay, three or fourscore! ah! thou unseasonable, thou unreasonable Supper-gut.
Well, Madam, since you are pleas'd to command it, he shall order one — D'you hear, go, and get us something.
I fear, Madam, you wont like what I shall bespeak; and I'm very confident you wou'd highly oblige my Master if you wou'd please to defe [...] his Treat till to morrow night, because —
See, Madam, here are both Mr. Freeman and Madam Clara!
Wou'd they were at York! They're e [...]en as welcom as a Tax Collector to a Grumbletonian.
You see, my Dear, I am obedient! But what would not I do to enjoy your company.
Rea [...]y, my Dear, had it not been for the pleasure of yours, I had supt elsewhere to night; so Mr. Needmore is wholly oblig'd to you for mine.
O! Yes, most damnably, Deformity seize her for't!
Come, Ladies, Compliments apart, let us walk into the next Room, there we may play till Supper comes.
Say you so, Sir? E gad then you may play till you starve.
I hope it won't be long, for I ve a very good stomach.
I fear you will have but a slender Entertainment; but this Lady is the cause of it.
Ay, and they'll be damnably slender too, if they stay till it comes They will find all as cold within, as a Citizen's Country-house in Winter. But what means my wise Master? He leaves me to bear the brunt? 'Tis commonly so: The Master gets the Maid with Child, and the Man m [...] marry her: Nay, pox on him, if he's so regardless of his own business, why shou'd I perplex my self?
Speedwel!
Sir?
What shall I do?
Faith, Sir, I can't tell: I want some of that which damns Lawyers and all the world; for without money I can do nothing; all your Creditors count me a Cheat and a Rogue.
Try if you could not prevail with Le Soupe.
I've try'd him often enough: You had as good beg in Dutch, and that you know is a very speeding Language.
But what shall I do with these people within?
Nay, look you to that.
I wish they were out of the House!
Is this all you wou'd have?
That's all.
O! that's easie enough. Do but seem somewhat frighted and disturb'd: Leave the rest to me.
But what must I pretend is the cause of my being so?
No Dispute, Sir. Mind you your part, and I ll play mine, ne're doubt me.
What the Devil he's going to do, I can't imagin. Tis a sharp designing Rascal, and I must let him alone at present. Sure the Rogue will take care of my Reputation. I am now in his Power, and the Villain knows it but too well, for which in time he shall feel mine.
My Brother wounded! Did you see him, Speedwel?
No, Madam, but I heard so.
Where did you hear it, and from whom?
At the corner of our street, from a croud of People. Some were saying he was dangerously wounded, others, that they fear'd his Wound was mortal.
Give me my Scarf.
So! It works rarely!
My Scarf quickly! I hope, Mr. Needmore you won't leave me in this misfortune!
No misfortune could make me leave you, Madam.
Stay. He's here himself.
O my dear Brother! We heard you was almost kill'd.
They're somewhat uncivil who kill'd me without letting me know it. Why, I have not had the least quarrel: Who was the Reporter of this?
Speedwell.
I heard it at the corner of our street, Sir, from a croud of people, who nam'd you, describ'd you, said you was run thro the Body, and, like me, pity'd you extremely.
You see I am as dead as any man alive: I din'd at the Blue-Posts, where I stay'd till now.
Borrow of him if you can.
And where they made you play, I warrant?
No, for I lent all my Money to a friend, who play'd and lost it.
So! This Commodity of Money is as scarce among these people, as Virginity in a Play-house.
Pray what brought you hither?
I heard at home y [...]u were come hither to Supper, so I came to take a bit with you; for I hate as much to sup alone, as most people do to lye alone; you know, nothing balks a good Stomach like that.
So! Customers come in apace! But e'gad, if you're not worse balk'd here, I'll be bound to treat you a twelve month.
Be pleas'd to walk in there.
Ay, come, for he must give orders.
Hark you, nothing the more for me, I charge you.
No, no.
Nor nothing the less, I dare promise him.
If you do, I'll never be so free with you again.
Speedwel!
Sir?
What ne're a word of Comfort?
Alas, Sir, all things runs so contrary, I vow I'm afraid you said your Prayers this morning.
Is there no getting them out of the House?
Be rul'd by me, and I warrant you we'll do't.
As how? Tell me, my dear dear Dog!
Why, set your Lodgings o' fire.
Ay, but 'tis dangerous.
Dangerous! What a pox, would you go to Heaven in a Coach with a Wench in your Arms? No, you must take some pains, run some hazard — Well, in short, I have but one stratagem more.
Hast thou one more then? Oh! Tell it me quickly!
Pretend your pocket was pickt this morning of all your Money; and that you're fallen out with Le Soupe, and have no Credit any where else.
That's well enough too: But then I fear I shall displease Theodosia. Ay, ay, that will certainly disoblige her for ever.
Sir, you're wanted within.
Ay, and without too: Pox on her! Our Plot is spoilt again.
I come —
What shall I do, I am going to be horribly handled.
If they're for tossing you in a Blanket, I'll take a corner. Stay, what do you think of giving your self to the Devil?
Sir, I'm sent again.
[...], can't come yet.
Once more, if you'll take my Counsel, walk off and leave 'em.
I dare not.
Nay then take your own measures. But look you, Sir, here's Le Scupe.
Try, if you can work him to any thing of good nature: for my part I found him more fawcy than a Bayliff.
Sir, your humble Servant! I hope your honour has got some money for me now.
O my worthy friend, Mr Le Soupe! Ay, ay, Monsieur, within this Fortnight I'll pay thee every penny.
Ay, Sir, but in the mean time—
Why, in the mean time I shall only desire you to let me have a pretty genteel Entertainment f [...] some Friends that I've here to night.
I have entertain'd too many of your friends already, Sir, to my cost. Zoons! I have been as patient as a Grocers hall Creditor — But I find, that between promising and performing, a mans Walls may be as [Page 21] naked as the roof, and his Back as bare as the naked truth.
But now my Word shall be as good as my Bond.
I believe you. I would not take either of 'em for a sorry English black Pudding.
Needmore, a word with you.
I'm coming — dear Le Soupe, let me entreat this one kindness of you: I'll give you a Note under my hand.
What, never to pay me?
They're out of all patience within.
He's speaking to the Cook, Sir.
Never put your self to unnecessary Charges! One Dish will be enough.
Well, you shall have no more.
No more than you have now, I dare engage.
Dear Le Soupe, let me prevail with thee. I shall have a Bill from my Father's for 500 l. within this Fortnight, and then I'll pay thee upon my honour.
You've pawn'd that so long ago, like many more, I dare say, you do'nt think it worth redeeming! Look you, Sir, there never was less money, nor more need of it; your words without that are like treating a man with a Fiddle when he wants a Dinner. Upon the word of a Cook, I will send some friends of mine to you presently; and so, Serviteur.
Ah diable je r'nie — Will you go, Sir? And I'll provide for their Entertainment. You know my Lord Title, what if he should protect you.
Who?
Why, he who with 200 a year, has 300 protected servants?
I scorn it —
Hah! What Strapper's this? She looks as much like a Bawd as a Catch-pole looks like a Rogue.
Pray, Sir, how may I speak to Squire Needmore?
He's a little engag'd at present, Madam; but if you please, I'll deliver any message to him.
I must do it my self, Sir; for so I promis'd the Lady.
Is your business from a Lady then?
Yes, Sir.
Ha! What's here? A Woman? I'll listen, whate're h [...] business is.
Are you the Gentleman, Sir?
My Name's Needmore, Madam.
Then, Sir, pray give me leave to Arrest you, at the Suit of Mr Extortion the Scrivener.
'Sdeath, he'll be buried alive! I must prevent it.
Is not he asham'd to take me up for the Principal? Why, I han't been able to pay the use. None but a Knave would Arrest a man these times.
These times! why they are the best times in the World, for us. But, look you, Sir, since you say there's nothing to be got of you, and you plead poverty, in Charity, as I'm an Officer, I wou'd avoid troubling you. Come, I'll have but 5 Guineas Civility Money, and then you shall chuse whether you'll run away from me, or I from you.
Who am I? Guess, Mistress Jenny.
I don't know. Let me go.
I'll wash your Eyes, Madam; 'twill clear your Eye-sight.
'Sdeath I've lost my Prisoner.
Prisoner! Cry mercy! I'm mistaken, I took you for an honest Friend.
Zoons! Where were your Eyes? I'm a Bayliff! Oh! He has put out my Eyes. Stop him! Help! Murther! Setter, Sweet'n'em, Spunger, Dogbolt, where are you? Help, help.
The Rogue has grop'd out his way — Now, Sir, run in, shut the door after you, and show your self, while here I study to bring you off: Don't seem concern'd; Do as Whores, Plotters, and Tradesmen do, within a day of running away, put a good face upon the matter.
I must.
Now must I shut the door, and cudgel my Brains again — Hah! There's Le Soupe's Man! I'll cudgel the Rascal first, but [
] I must keep out his followers.
Where's your Master.
There's yours, you Setting Dog: There's payment: There's Rake's Money: There's new fashion'd Coin for you.
Oh hold! Hold! Hear me! My Master's sending half a dozen Dishes hither, Mar.
How! Art thou in earnest?
As you were with me now. He was out of humour; but he has bethought himself, sent me to lay the Cloath, and beg your Master's pardon.
Then I beg thine. Come, let's do it quickly, dear Sawce — But what made him thus out of humour?
Why, many things; a Steward put him off till next year for denying him treble Poundage of a Bill of 5 years standing. Then some Officers pawn'd two Masks for a seven pound reckoning, and all their Cloaths won't yield forty Shillings.
Poor Devils. They work hard for 'em, and ten to one but they were borrow'd too.
Then, Sir John Rattle bespoke a fine Dinner, and never came. Six topping Sparks had the Guinea ordinary, then bid us set it down, and broke a Waiters head for muttering at it; and 4 tearing Beaus took the best room, call'd up all the house, ask'd for all varieties in Season, had a deal of attendance, and at last din'd on Small-ale, and a Cutlet.
And upon tick. Well, now the Cloath is laid, prethee go and hasten your men
I will
Stay, let me look out sharp; I fear my She-Bayliff's Crew — Hah! Are you thereabouts—I'll shut this door, and call my Master—Oh! Here he is—
Ah! Dear Speedwel, thou hast got us something, I find.
I han't time to talk of that yet. Off with your Upper Geer.
How!
Nay, 'tis no matter for drawing it, I must have that too.
What's the meaning of this?
There are more Rogues below, and I know best how to use the Sword. Come, uncase, uncase.
Your Cloaths fit me so so; you're almost as well ship'd as my self—Come, Sirrah! Take up these habiliments, and dress. Dress quickly, and observe your Masters motion. [
] Now do I fancy my self a Master already. Why not? E'gad many of ours are little better than Footmen out of Livery; and this seems to show they may be more akin to some of us than they think.
] Come, follow me.
But what will your Honour do with Theodosia and the rest of 'em?
I'll set 'em going presently. [
] But first get into the Closet, I've lockt the inner Door, your Guests can't come after us. [
]—Now come in who will. [
An't please your honour, we bring this from Mr. Le Soupe's.
Lay it down.
Ay, to take you up— [
] I have two Writs against you, Sir.
Against me? Demme, at whose Suit?
Mr. Le Soupe, and Mr. Cabbage your Taylor.
Cabbage! I don't know the Thief, confound me!
That may be, some of you are so long in your Taylor's Books, they are commonly forgot before they're paid: You shift 'em as often as you do new Suits, and Lodgings—Come along.
Prethee, Fellow, let's talk first.
I'll talk with you when you're out of Debt. Demme, would you have us Gentlemen Officers wait as long as your Taylors Bills? Come away, or let's see some Money, and we'll be civil. For a Guinea an have we'll keep you till you've sent for Bail.
Damn'd Scoundrels! Was ever a man of Quality us'd thus.
Ay, and worse, what's quality to us? — Run to the Office Manhound, search if there be more Writs out, inform his Creditors; we'll be well paid for't.
Demme, I don't owe any man Two pence: Whom do you take me for?
You are Squire Needmore; we know you well enough.
Ha, ha, ha! You silly Dogs you! You know me as little as you do Breeding. Demme, I shall catch you by the five pound Act.
O, Master Cabbage, you're come in good time: We've taken this Gentleman, who denies that he's call'd Squire Needmore.
No more he is not. Beg his pardon, and let him go: But methinks I've seen his face before now.
Noble Sir, we beg your Honour's Pardon.
Go, you Dags, Needmore is far enough by this time, your Game is out of your reach.
We shall catch it at last: Our Game is better than the Beasts you hunt, yet we don't so often miss on't.
Come, Sir, the Coast is clear.
That's well, my diligent Mercury. But oh! Theodosia, and the Supper.
The first shall go hence presently, and the last I'm sure will not come hither to night—But, get you in again, Sir, and dress; and, by that time you've done, come to 'em. But first give me notice with a hemh, that you are coming: For just then I will pronunce the Charm that shall set 'em all a flying.
Dear Conjurer, be sure it be a powerful one.
Where the Devil's this Needmore all this while?
Playing the extravagant in providing us a Feast, I warrant you.
Methinks this long absence of his looks like rudeness: he might have sent his Directions for the Supper by his man.
That man of his is a sneaking Devil, and the very Emblem of Hunger, he would purposely have forgot half his orders, to have starvd us: But now we shall have an extraordinary Supper.
Oh here he is! Where's your Master?
Madam, I'm afraid he'll be here before I've made a discovery to you that concerns your health, your Beauty, and perhaps your Life.
What mean you by this discourse?
Mean Madam? Why he means to play your Ladyship some Trick.
I hope not; tell us quickly, good Speedwell.
To shew you then Ladies that I value your Lives more than my own, I shall tell you, tho' my Master look'd Death with every Frown—
Our Landlady's Daughter lyes sick of the Small-Pox-over-head.
Good Heav'n defend us!
How's that, you Dog?
'Tis false, is't not?
Wou'd I cou'd say it were! But what shou'd cause this Villain to discover this to these Ladies? I knew on't but an hour ago; and wish'd 'em in some other House, (knowing they dread the Small-Pox) but durst not let 'em know why, lest the Fear of that fatal Disease shou'd make this Lady deprive me a while of the Blessing I enjoy in seeing her.
Oh barbarous Man! Thy Servant has more Honour than thou.—I'll not stay here a Moment. Is this the Care you ought to have of our Healths?
But Madam —
Not a Syllable; I shall be affraid to hear or see you this Fortnight. Be sure keep out of my Sight till then. Come Brother, your Hand.
Well Madam, I'll not stay a Minute in Town, while I may not see what I value most in it. I'll into the Country, and there stay my time for Product: Too much punish'd by so cruel an Absence.
Ah, Mr. Needmore, have a care how you expose young Ladies again to such Hazards. Mr. Freeman, you must continue my Convoy — I'll swear I'm very hungry.
So am I too! Well, 'tis always so: I never far'd worse than when I wish'd for my Supper.
Remember Child, Abstinence is wholesome. We English, they say, dig our Graves with our Teeth.
Peace, you meagre Chaps, I have a Saying for yours. A hungry Belly has no Ears.
And good reason why; because Words won't fill it.- But see they're gone.
Wou'd they'd staid. I a'n't afraid of the Small-Pox.
No nor of the great ones. — Well Sir, they're fled, and 'tis fit we shou'd. Hunger is doing the Somerset in my Guts. E gad my Belly is as empty as my Pockets—Come, I'll have you to a Place, where, as well as at many others, they'll take the Rascally Servant's Word, tho' not the honourable Master's.
Well, this has made me so sensible of my former ill Conduct, that from this Moment I'll reform, pay my Debts, and regulate my Expences by my Income.
Ay, do Sir, and then I shall be paid.— Cut your Coat according to your Cloth. Remember, Fools make Feasts, and wise Men eat 'em: My Son, keep Money in thy Pocket. (I am damnably full of old Saws!)
ACT III. HERCULES. A MASQUE. Set to Musick by Mr. John Eccles.
- Hercules,
- Mr. Redding.
- Omphale,
- Mrs. Boman.
- Dejanira,
- Mrs. Willis
- Two of Hercules's Children,
- Mis. Bradshaw. Jemmy Laroche.
- Nesica,
- Mrs. Perrin.
- Chorus of Lydians, Singers and Dancers.
Then learn to spin; 'tis all I ask.
"Come, spin out your Clue.
"S'Death, all is entangl'd! plague on't; it won't do.
ACT IV. The Unfortunate Couple. A short Tragedy.
SCENE Lyons.
- Grammont, A Man of Quality.
- Mr. Betterton.
- Elvira, His Lady.
- Mrs. Barry.
- Dampierre, His Kinsman.
- Mr. Freeman.
- Lysette, Elvira's Woman.
- Mrs. Lawson.
- Leonora, Grammont's Sister.
- Ms. Boman.
- La Roche, Grammont's Servant.
SCENE A House.
Alas, I die for fear.
It was —
What was it? Speak, I say.
It was a Letter.
From whom?
It was a Letter from my Lady —
Well said; to whom?
To — Yet Sir, excuse me, I conjure you.
Ah! more trifling! Out with it boldly, or —
'Twas to Montigny, Sir; your best and dearest Friend Montigny.
So, all goes well. I watch'd, and heard, and joy'd.
A paltry Pair of Gloves, I'll warrant you. Foh! I'll have none of 'em.
Art thou Elvira?
Why do'st thou ask that unkind Question?
Barbarous Man! Yet speak, what have I done?
Farewel thou most importunate of Women.
Hold! oh hold, Grammont! Oh Heav'ns! what has he done!
Then, Villain, die!
Oh! Death and Hell! I'm kill'd.
How am I a Monster?
ACT. V. Natural MAGIC. A short Farre. After the ITALIAN manner.
- Pantalone, an old Miser.
- Mr. Trefuses.
- Cynthio, in love with Isabella.
- Mr. Arnold.
- Pasquarel, his Man.
- Mr. Sorin.
- Mezzetin, Pantalone's Man.
- Mr. Knap.
- Nicholas, a Clown.
- Mr. Trout.
- Columbina, Pantalone's Maid.
- Mrs. Lawson.
- Men personating the Devil, and his Subjects.
Scene a Country-house near Naples.
Scene a Chamber, with a Bed in it; a Table, Chairs, a Guitar and Chest.
DEar Isabella, forgive my Love the Trick it makes me put upon your cruel Uncle. You know, this House, and the Land about it, shou'd have been mine, but that he cheated my Father of it; and unless we can fright him out of the Deeds, by making him believe the House is haunted, I must despair of being able to maintain you, as I wou'd the only Person that can make me happy.
I can forgive you any Thing but staying here now, my Cinthio: My Uncle is just coming to Bed; he's but speaking to his Tenant.
That Tenant is my Friend, and keeps him in Talk on purpose: Knowing that your Uncle was to come this Evening from Naples, to take Possession of this Estate, we have contriv'd Traps and other Matters to carry on my Design; and if it succeeds, Colombina and Mezzetin shall be so well rewarded.
Yes, with a damn'd Cudgel, if our Master Signore Pantalone catches you with us here.
Fear nothing: Pasquarel, my nimble Spaniard, watches, and will give you timely Notice.
You and he may be deceiv'd in that, as well as in your Design of making him pass for a Spirit: I fear he can't speak our Language well enough for that; tho' I own he speaks it like a Devil.
Sir, he's coming.
Away.
We're undone, that Door is double lock'd.
There's no way but one to bring you off; bolt the Door to keep him out. Colombina, off with that black upper Petticoat. You, Sir, must unbutton your Coat: 'Tis well 'tis black: Let me put it over your Head backwards, thus, inside-outwards. Now your Arms through the Side-slits. Now on with the Petticoat. Thus you'll look like a Fryar. Look grave. Leave the rest to me.
Hah! he's here already.
What will become of me?
An Eunuch if he sees thee.
He shan't, if these Petticoats will hide me.
Hold, hold, I'll let no Body come there.
That's a Lie. I must e'en get under that Table. Pantalone without Knocks and Calls, Open the Door!
Oh! Sir, we dare not.
Who has shut it?
The Spirit.
The Spirit's the Wind, you Ass.
Now you may open.
Where are these Fools that are afraid of Spirits? [
] Hah! what's that?
Nothing but a reverend Father, Sir. Your Niece is afraid of the Spirits, which, they say, haunt the House; so she would not go to Bed without Confession.
She's a credulous Fool. But no matter; 'tis well there are such, and unbelieving Knaves to keep 'em so.
Reverend Father, she's a stubborn Sinner; she would marry a beggarly Reprobate, who says I trick'd his deceas'd Father out of this Estate. Wou'd I had him here! he shou'd feel the Vengeance of an Italian. Reprove her, Father; I leave her wholly to be guided by you.
Since my Uncle is come into this Room, let your Reverence be pleas'd to walk into the next.
Your Reverence's humble Servant.
Sir, here's a new Ruff was left for you: Pray try whether it fits, that it may be alter'd, if it does not: For you'll want it to morrow.
Do so. [
] Heigh day! The Devil's in it.
Ay, now it's about your Neck.
Oh! Sir, the Spirit that haunts this House, puls it up.
Bless me! But I'll try to pull it down.
So! 'tis off. Let the Devil put it on for me. [
] Hah! what's that? A Letter.
I fear Isabella drop'd it.
Don't touch it, Sir; sure the Devil laid it there: 'Twill burn you.
Let's see the Light! I'll put on my Spectacles, and read it.
He must not. I'll make my Words good, and set it on Fire.
This Candle gives a pretty good Light. [
] Cot so, my Fingers itch. Hell and the Devil! it burns me.
I told you so, Sir: Some unlucky Devil dropt it.
There was something of Fires and Flames in it.
No wonder then if it burn'd so. Oh! I dare not stay here.
I don't know what to think of all this! But come what will, I'll not abate a Penny of the Rent. I'll e'en go too, and try whether the Father-Confessor can set Things to right.—Stay; is not that the Devil at my Heels? [
] Help, help! Mezzetin! Colombina!
What's the Matter, Sir?
Did not you see it?
What, Sir?
The Devil, the Spirit.
I saw nothing.
Oh! I am crippl'd. Where's the Father-Confessor?
He's gone, Sir.
What shall I do? I dare not lie alone. Colombina, prethee lie with me to Night.
Fy, Sir; such a wicked Thing would raise the Devil certainly.
But this is no such dangerous Devil neither: I dare say, he'll do thee no Harm.
No; nor no Good neither, I dare say. Get your Man Mezzetin to lie with you.
No, he's a Cow-hearted Rascal.
There's Nicholas, your Farmer's Man! He's a stout Fellow.
Cra' mercy; and God speed the Plough! I thought I had heard an Outcry.
So thou didst. The Spirit has broke my Bones.
Oh! is that all? Mary 'tis well he ha'n't broke your Neck.
He cannot, Nicholas: The Devil has no Power but on those that have sold themselves to him: Now I han't sold my self to the Devil.
Troth, I don't know. You old Pinch-pennies are like your Wenches, and your Court-Folks, they say; you'd sell any thing for Mony.
Well, wilt thou lie with me, honest Nick?
An't please you, I'm no proud Man; I had rather lie with you' Wench.
What are you afraid of Spirits too?
Not I; but many a one has been trust up for being in bad Company. What if old Nick should mistake in the Dark, and carry young Nick away in stead of his Worship.
Thou needst not fear: Didst thou ever give thy self to the Devil?
What need I? I'm no marrie Man.
Then thou'rt safe enough: The Devil has no Pow'r over thee.
Why are you then so ascard?
I! I a'n't afraid. But 'tis good to have Company.
Why, I've heard our Curate say, An Usurer's never alone; Gold and the Devil (God bless us) are always in his Company.
Come, you must lie with me; for I will not lie by my self.
Stay; I'm thinking of a rare Bedfellow for you.
Sayst thou so? Prethee who is it?
Why, our Master's Wife. I dare say she'll deny no Man. Then she must needs be a plaguy good Body; for he has bid the Devil take her these Ten Years, yet the Devil don't care to middle with her.
Come, lie with me; thou dost not know what I'll do for thee.
No, nor never shall, I'll warrant. But if I must come, let's e'en pig together quickly o' God's Name; for I'm e'en as sleepy as our Neighbour's Dog, that lean'd his Head on the Wall to bark.
Draw the Window-Curtains, and we'll to Bed.
A Match, quoth Joane, when she lay with her Master.
SCENE changes to a Garden.
Here I must fix this Ladder, to get into our old Hunks's Apartment, that Cynthio's Devils may get in to fright him.
Hah! what's that? Some English Mastiff? No, they have not such long Tails. Oh! 'tis the Devil himself.
Mezzetin! Mezzetin! So I have frighted one Fool away! I find I shall pass unsuspected in this Monkey's Dress and Face (tho' I've seen some here pretty much like it) but he must be subtiler than a Monkey that will work an Usurer to refund. This way I must get in: But first I'll try whether I have my Monkey's Tricks perfect. [
] A good quick way of coming down! I thought I had heard some Noise! But 'twas nothing, I think. I'll up again.
Is all fast? [
] Hah! the Devil—
Of a Miser. [
] This was a new way of coming down! Well, I've frighted him away too, I hope. I'll scale the Wall once more. [
] Now good Night t'yee'.
SCENE a Chamber, Nicholas snoring in a Corner.
Oh! deliver me from the Devil and his Ape's Tricks! Nicholas! The Clown snores so loud, I wonder the Noise of his own snoring don't wake him, Why Nicholas!
Can't you let a Body sleep, you old fat Sow?
He dreams! Why Nicholas, I've seen the Devil in the Shape of an old Woman, just like an over-grown Monkey.
What, d'you say, you're as apish as an old Monkey? I know it, Dame: I can say no more to you now. You've had enough for one Night, I think.
Why, you dreaming Sot; I'll awake you.
What's that for? Can't you let me make an end of my Dream?
I've seen the Devil.
Why, then, bid him good Night for me.
He's a coming.
Let him, o' God's Name. I've the Key of the Door in my Pocket.
But he'll get in through the Key-hole.
What do I care? I ha'n't sold my self to the Devil.
How long must you be awaking, you Dolt?
Ay, ay, Forsooth.
The Looby sleeps as he stands.
Ay, and stands as he sleeps.—To Morrow, Dame, upon a Hay-Cock.
Go to Bed, you Lump.
Ay, and thank you too; I'll go sleep out my Sleep, and make an end of my Dream.
I'll go to Bed too; but I'll not venture to strip. I'll lay by me my Dagger, my Pistol, and my Holy-water Pot. [
] Thus, like a prudent modern Zealot, I'll trust to the Spiritual Arms, when the Carnal Weapon's by.
Bless me, my Candle's out! I must crawl to the Chimny for a Fire-brand.
Hah! I'll secure these dangerous Tools: Exchange is no Robbery. [
]
So, I've got one; I'll blow to light the Candle.
I'll spare you that Labour.
Mercy o' me! What's that? [
] Oh! the Devil blows the Coal. [
] My Guitar's yonder; I'll try to play a Tune; perhaps that will drive away the Evil Spirit. Here's a Chair. I'll sit; for I tremble so I can't stand. [
] 'Tis out of Tune, and so am I too. [
] What ails the Guitar? One String gives all manner of Sounds! Oh, now 'tis pretty well. [
] Oh! oh! 'tis bewitcht I think. [
] I can see nothing. [
] Oh! I play, and the Devil Dances; sure the Devil has ne're a Head, or 'tis where the Tail should be.
Thus shalt thou be plagu'd while alive; and then thou shalt burn for ever, unless thou restorest the Deeds to Cynthio.
Oh good, Mr. Devil, I'll do't, if I live—till Doomsday.
Then I'll haunt thee no more.
Nicholas!
Hush! I'm asleep.
Why Nicholas.
Odsooks, don't I tell you, I'm asleep? What's the matter now?
Oh the Devil has been here! Is he gone?
Nay, look your self: I dont care to look after the Devil.
He's gone.
Well, this same Devil is a main honest Man; thus he always comes, they say, to make Folks honest, and destroy his own Religion.
Why, thou Fool, dost thou think I'll give up an Estate of Two thousand Ducats a Year, for a little Imp's Tricks? No, Nicholas; he can't do me so much harm, as this Land will do me good. I dare him, I defy him. Oh law! Is not that he? No. I scorn to fear him— [
] That is, when he is far enough off.
Give me up my Deeds.
Ah, sure, that's old Cynthio's Ghost. I must guard my self from that Enemy of mine, with this good Dagger. [
] Bless me! the Dagger's chang'd into a Bolonia-Saucidge! However, I'll venture to keep that for my Breakfast! But I think I feel my Pistol, I'll keep him off with that. [
] Oh! hoh! the Devil bites my Fingers off! Hah, what's this? My Pissel's turn'd to a Mousetrap! But, sure he dares not meddle with the Holy Element! Oh no! here 'tis. I'll cross my self. [
] Pshah! what's this? It offends my Nose. Deliver me! 'Tis Mustard, or something worse! Oh, I'm dead with Fear.
Oh say your Prayers, Sir; say your Prayers.
So I wou'd; but it is so long since I said 'em, that I've quite forgot 'em. Say yours.
I can't; I have trusted to our Curate, who lost to me ten Years-prayers at All-Fours. Oh, I've been a great Sinner; but Yesternight I thresh'd little black Mary in the Stable, while her poor Husband was threshing in the Barn.
Oh!
If thou restorest not the Land to Cynthio, to Morrow, thou shalt be like me.
Oh I will, I will, Mr. Ghost, and fourfold what I've cheated others of.
Hold, Master! Wowns! don't promise so much; you'll be undone.
Tush, Fool; now the Danger's over, I'll not give up the worth of a Notch'd Hoop-stick, or a cast Poet's day. No, not a single Piece—
For I'll give up a great many. Oh! save me!
Oh! this is the ugliest Thing we've had yet. He's coming! Oh, if he shou'd kill me, I ne're shall be my own Man again. Oh let me alone, Mr. Devil; as I hope to be shav'd, I'll be bound to pray for your Worship all Days of my Life. Confession! Absolution! Oh good Devil, give me but three or fourscore Years to Repent, and take any Body else: There are a great many Whores and Whoremongers, hereabouts.
Give up the Deeds to Cynthio; or prepare to meet me to Morrow at this Time, for I'll Fight with thee for them.
Oh, he's gone: I was sadly afraid he would have left his Glove.
Why, will you Fight him?
No, I'm old; then he's no Gentleman! Do thou meet him, I'll reward thee to Heart's Content.
Not I; I a'n't of his Match. Do you! I fancy an old Usurer's a Match for the Devil.
Oh, Sir! We dare not go to Bed: There have been strange Doings since we left you: Rattlings of Chains; Flashes of Light: Some Imps, or sucking Devils overturn'd all the Pewter, Bottles, Glasses, Pans and Kettles; laugh'd aloud, and throw'd each of us a piece of Mony, went away, and broke—Nothing.
Make me thankful. Let's see the Piece. Sirrah, you shall keep nothing of theirs.
They hit me half a dosen Slaps o' the Face too, thus and thus: Make you thankful, Sir.
How, you Rogue?
Sir, you'll have me keep nothing; and then this is to show you how they did. But, Sir; there's a Spanish Capitan, who has been seeking Mischief and the Devil in Savoy, Catalonia and Flanders, very unluckily these Eight Years, and comes here to find him: Here he comes.
Senor, I am the renown'd Don Mezzamorto de los Rodomontados: Glory's my Chace; Fighting my Business; and Killing, my Diversion. Travelling in the Dark (for I defy Danger) I lost my Men, and my way. I have been seeking the Devil both in the Old World and the New, resolv'd to find him in This, or in the Next—I am for Rome; for that, they say, is the likeliest Place to find him; but, hearing you have him in this House, I honour it with my Presence; to let that Devil know, he's a Son of a Whore, to make me seek him thus long: I, who send him such Crowds of Souls; the whole College of Physicians scarce send him more.
Nay, he's an uncivil Person, that's the Truth on't.
Tell that Devil, I'm more a Devil than he.
Oh, Sir, you're most heartily welcome. Wou'd you had been here a little sooner; you might have told him so your self. But by to Morrow you'll have your Wish; nay, perhaps to Night.
I'll stay, and Face him; and with this Sword, with which I kill'd Catinat—
Why Catinat is alive still, Sir.
Blood and Death! not the Catinat I kill'd.
Very true, Sir: I beg your Excellence's Pardon.—A bloody Fellow.
Signore, to refresh you, my People shall serve a Collation. Mezzetin, some Fruit, some Liquors and Sweat-meats, to refresh the Capitan; quick.
Hold! If I stay, I must have a Thing that's pretty hard to be got, to stay with me.
What's that, Sir?
A Virgin! Such a one she must be, that the Devil may have no Power over her.
Dost hear, Colombina?
Not I; but what shou'd I stand here for?
The Capitan wants a Virgin.
Why, he does not want me.
Art thou a Virgin?
I—I—am—not—to resolve you.
Death and Blood! Draw, some Body; for I will have Satisfaction.
Indeed, Sir, I don't know, I am hard to be awak'd sometimes; I don't know what may be done, when I sleep. Let me go.
Well, be or be not; I'll act like all Husbands: At a venture, I'll secure thee.
I must watch this Spaniard: I fear, this is rather a Plot to trick me out of my Mistress, than my old Master out of the Deeds. Here's a Table with Fruit; I'll place my Head in it through this Hole, so as to observe him. She may well think him half mad; and I'll palt him unseen, and put something in his Drink, shall make her think him quite so. But hush! they're coming.
Be pleas'd to sit, Sir.
Do you sit too. I hope she does not know me in this Garb.
In Obedience, I will. Be pleas'd to taste of this, Sir.
By my Sword, dear Creature, there's nothing here I would taste of but you.
Sure, Sir, you would not eat me?
Yes, with Kisses.
Are you so sharp set? I'll spoil your Stomach! There's a Rogue! He's for taking my Copy-hold over my Head.
Come, we're in Italy, where Opportunities are as welcome as they're scarce.
Oh! Sir; but what if the Devil should come this moment?
Why, then I'd make that Devil hold the Candle to me, hold his Life of me, hold the Door for me; and hold himself contented. I'd make him tremble, like—
Who, who, who, whoop!
Hah! what's that?
Nothing but a silly Owl. What, does that make you tremble?
What I? I' scorn to tremble. I must confess, it made me shake. But 'twas as the I you does; nothing but the Rousing up of my Courage; and now 'tis up, have at you.
Nicholas! Mezzetin! [softly.] I vow, Sir, I'll call louder! Nicholas!
Pox, that last was too loud: Now a well-bred Woman would have cry'd out so softly, that no Body would have heard her.
What's the matter there?
Oh! nothing: I was only afraid of the Devil. Yet stay, or I'll go too.
I will, and thank you too.
Why, do you fear? Does not this Sword secure you?
With this Nursing-Mother of Surgeons in my Hand, I took the Grand Visit, thus! [
] I'll tell you how, at the Battle of Argos, my Courage and Conduct got the Day. There lay the Christians—There the Turks. These Sugar-plumbs the one; and these the other. Thus did I charge their Right; pow, pow, pow! There's a Colonel kill'd, with three Captains. Thus, they're taken off, and the Ranks clos'd. Then their Left comes on, pow, pow! There lie two Men slain; I take 'em off! Then thus I charge their main Body, pow, pow, pow, pow; and I rout and take 'em all Prisoners.
Ay, but thus pow, pow, pow, you eat all. This is new-fashion'd Justice; some all, some none.
No, Fellow, tho' thou art Clay. I'll fairly give thee half. There's one for Me, one for Thee, and one for Me. One for Me, One for Thee, and one for Me. One for Me, one for Thee, and one for me.
Why, you take Two for my One▪ is this your fair half?
Ay, was ever the King's Moyety otherwise paid in? Come, now let's drink a Glass.
There I watch'd you.
Confusion to all Cowards.
Hold, Master, don't curse your best Friends.
Ay, were it not for Cowards, how wou'd half of you Men pass for Valiant?
Just as, were it not for Fools, half of you Women would pass for honest.
[
] I'm hot, I'll take the Air. To Horse, to Horse! Thus vaults the Soldier in his Landlord's Saddle. [
] See, see, how fast the brave Dutch Squadrons gallop. Bear me, Bucephalus, among the Billows! Oh! 'tis a noble Beast. What's that? I'll alight and catch it. A Maidenhead! Whip, 'tis gone! 'Twas nothing. Thus it went. Hey! Presto pass. [
] As if the old World modestly withdrew, and here in private had brought forth a new.
He's stark staring Mad; he raves and heaves and winds himself, like any Wench in Fits. Sure the Devil's got into his Wemb. He's a playing's Christmas-Gambols! Let's scamper and tell our Master.
Wou'd I were well off now.
Hah! I burn! Where am I? What Place is this? A Conventicle? How crowded 'tis with Whoremasters! Hah! Sure 'tis Hell. I know it by their Grinning. How! Vanity here! Vanity there! Vanity every where! What's that lean Thing? Poor Matrimony! See, see! Repentance treads on his Heels, and Cuckoldom rubs his Forehead. Hah! hah! hah! Who's that with a Face of the Colour of a Stock-jobbers Conscience? Hypocrisy! No, she's at Church. I know her now; 'tis Proserpine. I'll have her, and make the Devil a Cuckold. Stay, I'll treat her first with Fruit. [
] How! The Table moves. 'Tis Tantalus's Feast. Now by the Gods, by Pasquarel I swear, I'll be reveng'd and put out all Hells Fires, Till Fiends meet Fiends, and justle in the Dark.
What's the matter? Is any Body robbing me here?
Oh, Sir, the Devil (God bless us) is certainly got into that same huffy Fellow, and he's driving him for ought I know into the next Pond, like any mad Swine.
I'm glad on't; then I hope we're rid of him.
Ay, Sir, I warrant you he's far enough by this Time. But there's a Neighbour of ours without says, he has a Bargain for your Worship.
What, at this time of Night? Bid him come in tho'.
It must be some good Bargain, by the Hour 'tis brought at.
He won't be seen, Sir; but here's a parcel of Silver-Plate he wish'd me to bring you.
Leave it, and tell him, I thank him.
Not so fast, Robin; I bring it to be sold, Man. Why, there's enough of it to buy a score of Lordships, and debauch a whole County.
Sold! But where's there Mony to buy it?
Thus it is now with these Mony-mongers! They'll all tell you there's no Mony, yet they're always laying out.
Hark you; your Ear: Was it stolen? For then I must give accordingly.
No mary wa'nt it: 'Twas my Neighbour's old Master's, such another old Thief as your Worship: He damn'd himself to get, and his Heir wants to sell it to buy Earthen Ware, I think.
Oh! if 'tis a young Heirs, he'll afford as good a Pennyworth, as if 'twere stolen. A prudent Age! Men part with their solid Metal, to purchase brittle Earth! What do you ask for't?
Cheap enough! Threescore and two Pence an Ounce.
Is that cheap?
Ay, mary, is it: Some wou'd give Threescore and ten, yet can't get enough on't.
Ay, but we Men of Mony know better Things: Come, I'll give you Fifty Crowns for't, all at a Lump.
Why, I cou'd have more at the Mint.
Ay, but when, my Friend?
When? Why not to Night, 'tis somewhat of the latest; but after to Morrow. Good by t'yee.
Come back, I'll give you Thirty Pistols for't.
No, I'll take no less than Forty.
Come then, I'll advance—Six-pence.
Keep your single Sice to buy a Halter. I'll take no less than Fourscore Crowns.
Well, come back, and take 'em. This Fellow's a Fool, and takes much less in Silver, than I bid him in Gold.
Here's the Mony.
Ay, but where's my Pair of Gloves? Don't I know there's no good Jobb got now-a-days, but the Procurer gets a Spel?
Ay, a Peasecods on't! That sometimes amounts to half on both sides.
Come, I'll give thee—I'll give thee—
What will you gi' me?
Thanks—And that's more than some will give for a good Turn.
Farewel and be Hang'd, that's twice Go'd buy.
Come, there's a Crown for thee.
A Crown! I'll have Forty in one Word; or you shan't have it.
Forty!
Ay, now I bargain for my self, Man.
Hang it! Come, take 'em, here's the whole Sum.
And there's the whole Plate.
What lumping Bargain's we get, now Mony's scarce! Let's see mine again! That's half the Pleasure of an Usurer. Sure 'tis worth above six hundred Crowns. [
] Bless me! Do I see, or no?—No, sure I Dream—No, but I don't—Oh! this is another of the Devil's Tricks. I'm undone! I'll hang my self strait, to avoid Shame and Sorrow.
Hold, Mortal! Behold Mammon, that dread Power that makes Men great, the God thou serv'st and worship'st. I'll now make up thy Loss ten thousand Fold. Some Fiends, set on by Cynthio, have this Night disturb'd and threaten'd [Page 51] thee, but fear 'em not. I'm their Superiour, and will make them serve thee: For, what withstands Almighty Mammon's Power? I'll force 'em now to fill this Chest with Gold. But they're of dismal Shapes, and their Sight hurtful; then turn thy Back, and as thou lov'st thy Life, or dearer Wealth, till they've perform'd my Will, cast not an Eye this way. When thrice thou'rt call'd, then, turn, see, wonder, and still serve Great Mammon.
Dread Mammon, I obey; and if I turn before, may I then lose whatever I have here.
Well, I'm made for ever. My Lord Mammon is like all the World, and is kindest to those that keep Mony by them; and I'll keep mine so, that 'tis not not Forty in the Hundred Discount shall decoy me to part with it. I've a great Mind to turn, and make my Court to the Spirits, that they may bring me more hereafter. But I must not. Wou'd they were come! Methinks they out-stay their Time.—What if this damn'd Fiend that haunts me, has chang'd Shapes to plague me more? What need they have taken the Chest? There my Deeds are, and ten thousand Ducats! Oh! I'm in a cold Sweat—Shall I look back? What shall I do?
Oh! here's the old Craven dares not go to Roost without me. He sleeps standing. I'll call him—Master! Signore Pantalone!
Oh! I beg Great Mammon's Pardon! They are come.
Why, Signore Pantalone!
Hah! I've been called twice.
Hey, Signore Pantalone!
Now do I turn to look on my Gold, and thank Great Mammon. [
] Hah!
Nay, why d'you kneel to me for? I a'n't your God-father.
Where's my Chest, my Mony, my Deeds?
Nay, the Devil and you know best.
Undone! Ruin'd! Let me curse my self into the Ground, for I ha'n't enough left to bury me! Run, Cry, Ride, charge a Constable with them.
With whom? With the Devil?
Run to a Conjurer. Cast a Figure! I'll have it again, tho' he has me for't. Stay, I'll be reveng'd on my self. Get me some Poyson.
How much, Sir? We buy it of 'Pothecaries at Half a Crown a Glass; but you may have it at the Vintners at Eighteen Pence a Bottle.
No, not so dear! All my Mony's gone! Two penny-worth of Ratsbane will do—Stay, I'll save the Mony. There's a Rope yonder, I'll e'en hang my self. Oh my Chest! My dear Chest! I'll not survive thy Loss. Thou art gone to the Devil! Oh my Chest! my dear Chest! I'll follow thee.
Wowns! He's hanging himself. 'Tis like to be a blessed Time, tho', when Usurers hang themselves! But what a Pity 'tis! I came to tell him how he might ha' lick'd himself whole, by lending a well-landed Heir a Sum of Mony.
Is he of Age?
Mercy o' me! I fancy, the hopes of chousing a young Squire, wou'd raise an Usurer from the Dead. You're welcome from Hell, Sir! Of Age, say you? Mary, many of his Age have spent two or three times more than they're worth— Stay, an' he lives to see the First of April come Twelve-months, he'll be—just Two and twenty. Bless'd be the Day when it comes.
Oh he's a Minor. Nothing to be done! And more cause of hanging my self.
But, Sir!
Lard! Can't you let a Man hang himself in Peace.
Wowns! I must go get a good Knife, or his Soul will burst out at the Bunghole.
Signore Pantalone hang'd. I'll cut him down.
Lard, Sir, cou'd not you let him alone? He'll have an Action against you for spoiling his Rope.
He's not dead! His Pulse beats! He's but in a Swoon.
Let's keep the Room dark, and when he wakes make him believe he's in Hell: This may do you and him some good.
So it may—But what have you done with my Spaniard?
Sir, he's come to his Senses: The Dose which I pour'd into his Glass never works above a quarter of an Hour.
Then he may be further useful. Bring our Spirits hither, while I order Things to bring him before us, who'll represent Lucifer's Court of Justice. Oh they're here.
Apply this Essence to his Nostrils; and when he revives, tell him he's in Hell.
Where am I?
In Hell, wretched Soul!
Hah! Defend me! What are you?
We are the Sheriff's Officers of Hell: You must come to be try'd and sentenc'd.
Oh hoh! But am I then dead?
Yes, and damn'd: Were you not an Usurer?
No indeed; I only lent Mony to Friends, on Land, or other good Security, at Twenty in the Hundred—And that's but a National Rate you know. Oh hoh! [Page 53] I should ha' thought I had been alive, but that I remember I hang'd my self; methinks I am no more dead than e're I was in my Life.
Bring the Criminals to the Bar to receive Sentence. Make haste, I'm hungry, and consequently as out of Humour as my Brother-Judges above, at a tedious Quarter-Sessions.
Bear back there! Make way for the Quack Doctor.
Transportation, my Lord! I've sent more People to Hell last Year, than did a whole Army in Flanders.
That was but against your Will. Hearken to your Sentence. I'm in haste, and wave Method. You shall swallow every Day a Peck of your own Pills! Twelve Vomits, Sixteen Purges, Fourteen Bolus's, and Six and thirty Clysters of Aqua Fortis.
Make way for the Vintner.
My Lord, I've kill'd my self in your Service; and have sent you more People than the modern Broachers of Heresies in Physic and Divinity; and that's whole Legions, my Lord.
Against your Will too. You shall set up a Hedge-Tavern for Bullies and Night-walkers; never Ride nor Tipple abroad, sell in seal'd Measures at the Statute-price, be boyl'd in slumm'd Claret, and drink your own Wines over again.
Room for an old Maid.
My Lord, I'm not fit for Hell.
How? And an old Maid?
There must be gnashing of Teeth: Now I have none, my Lord: Then there must be Weeping; and I wept so much, first, for having refus'd, and then for being refus'd, that I'm as dry as Tinder, my Lord.
Her Crimes are too enormous for Hell to punish—Let her be—Stay, what shall she be?—Still an old Maid.
My Lord, let me have the Benefit of the Clergy.
'Tis too late. Take her away; cut her into Matches, and lay her up in Pluto's Tinder-box.
I'm quick with Child, my Lord. I plead my Belly.
Away with her; I'll hear no more.
May it please your Lordship, here's a Criminal to be try'd.
Dam him! I'm in hasle. Let him be hang'd on Tantalus's s'ree.
My Lord, I've been hang'd already.
What art thou?
An Usurer, as they'll have it, an't please your Diabolity.
Hell's full of them. This makes People want Mony so damnably above. What wert thou damn'd for?
For nothing, my Lord: Only for thinking too well of the World. I cheated, as every Body does; I was cheated again, and so suspended my self.
Hearken to your Sentence. You shall for ever lend Mony, without Secucurity or Interest, to Prodigals, Projectors, and Poets; receive as many Lashes as you've got Pence by Extortion, be sindg'd with your best Bonds, and the Laird of Hell roast your Sole.
Mercy, My good Lord-Devil! I have neither Bonds, nor Mony. Mercy! Mercy!
How! No Bonds! No Mony! Produce the Chest.
Here 'tis produc'd in Court.
My Lord, I've no right in 'em. These are only some Deeds that belong to a Gentleman, whose Father I wrong'd; his Name's Cynthio: Let him have 'em. And the Ten thousand Ducats are my Niece Isabella's: I was her Guardian, and cheated her of 'em. Let 'em take 'em among 'em, and Marry when they will, and do you have Mercy my Lord-Judge. Transportation! Mercy!
Mercy, upon an empty Stomach? Yet what shall we do with this wicked Fellow? He'll but spoil these worthy Gentlemen here.
Let him set his Hand to this Paper to make good what he says, and send him to his World again, without Mony. He'll be miserable enough thus. There's no Room for him here; no not among the Proctors, Taylors, Overseers of the Poor, nor the Pawn-brokers.
Stay, is it stamp'd Paper? Yes! Hah wou'd it wer'nt.
] There, my good Lord! I deliver this as my Act and Deed, for the use of the Persons therein mention'd.
And I adjourn the Court—These Gentlemen may go Sup where they can: As for you, Signore Pantalone, you shall be our Guest.
Bless me! Are you all in Hell? Or am I out of it? Oh I have been cheated, gull'd, made an Ass, and what's worse, a Beggar!
Hah, hah, hah!
Come, Sir, you've enough left: You've parted with nothing but what was not yours; and 'tis to your Niece, and to me, to whom you owe more; since you owe me your Life; for, had I not cut the Rope, you had been dead, and damn'd as you thought your self just now. Thank Providence, and learn to make a better use of what you enjoy.
Well, the Advice is good. Heav'n forgive me, and bless you together! Since you have sav'd a Life that stood between an Estate and your Mistress, you show you deserve it, and you shall have all, when I die: For now I'll right those I've wrong'd, and, tho' late, begin to lead a new Life.
Look you, Master of mine, so wou'd I too. I borrow'd some Plate of our Neighbour, Sir John's Steward, and sold it you; then chang'd it and the Cloth, thinking you'd fancy the Devil had don't in this Hurly-burly: Since that they brought me into this Plot here, for I knew nothing on't before; but take your Muck again, 'tis Usurer's Mony, the Widow's and Fatherless's Blood, and the poor Man's Curse; 'twoud not thrive with me.
No, to show I'm no more such, keep it; I give it thee freely, honest Fellow.
Well, now I dare keep it. There's a Wonder come to pass! A Pinchpenny grown Free-hearted. Covetousness routed out. Well,
EPILOGUE,
Plays, and other Books, Printed for and Sold by Richard Parker and Peter Buck.
- MArriage-Hater Match'd, a Comedy, by Mr. D'Vrfey.
- Traytor, a Tragedy, by Mr. Rivers.
- Love's last Shift, a Comedy, by Mr. Cibber.
- Agnes de Castro, a Tragedy, by a young Lady.
- Neglected Virtue, a Tragedy.
- Unhappy Kindness, a Tragedy, by Mr. Scott.
- Love's a Jest, a Comedy, by Mr. Motteux.
- Pyrrhus King of Epirus, a Tragedy; by Mr. Charles Hopkins, Author of Boadicea Queen of Britain. A Tragedy.
- Old Batchelour, a Comedy, by Mr. Congreve.
- The Roman Bride's Revenge, a Tragedy.
- Womans Wit, or the Lady in Fashion, a Comedy, by Mr. Cibber.
- Provok'd Wife, a Comedy; by the Author of the Relapse, or Virtue in Danger.
- Poems on several Occasions; written in Imitation of the manner of Anacreon; with other Poems, Letters and Translations: By Mr. Oldmixon.
- The Gentleman's Journal; compleat Sets, or single ones. By Mr. Motteux.
- Plot and no Plot, a Comedy, by Mr. Dennis.
- The Intreagues of Versailles, or a Jilt in all Humours; a Comedy, by Mr. D'Vrfey.