A COMEDY, CALL'D, THE Basset-Table.
THE BASSET-Table. A COMEDY. As it is Acted at the
Theatre-Royal
in
Drury-Lane,
by Her Majesty's Servants.
By the Author of the
Gamester.
LONDON:
Printed for
William Turner
at the
Angel
at
Lincolns-Inn-Back-Gate
; and Sold by
J. Nutt
near
Stationers-Hall,
1706. Price 1
s.
6
d.
To the Right Honourable ARTHUR Lord
ALTHAM,
BARON of
ALTHAM,
In the Kingdom of IRELAND.
My LORD,
POetry,
in its first Institution, was principally design'd to Correct, and rectify Manners. Thence it was that the
Roman
and
Athenian Stages
were accounted Schools of Divinity and Morality; where the Tragick Writers of those Days inspired their Audiences with
Noble
and
Heroick Sentiments,
and the
Comick
laugh'd and diverted them out of their
Vices;
and by rediculing
Folly, Intemperence,
and
Debauchery,
gave them an Indignation for those Irregularities, and made them pursue the opposite
Virtues.
This caus'd the
Dramatic Poets,
in ancient Times, not only to be reverenc'd by the lower sort of People, but highly Esteem'd and Courted by Persons of the first Rank; and tho' the Writers of latter Ages, have, in a greater Measure, not to say in a scandelous Manner, deviated from the Foot-steps, and Examples of their Predecessors; yet have they found Protection and Favour with those, who have been so Generous as to ascribe the Faults of the
Poets
to the Degeneracy of the
Age
wherein they liv'd.
This consideration,
my Lord,
has imbolden'd me to this Address, for tho' on the one Hand I am sensible, that the following Piece does little Merit your
Lordship
's Patronage; yet your innate Goodness and Generosity give me hopes, that your Lordship will Pardon this Intrusion, in which I have the Examples of all those that
wrote
before me to bear me out. I heartily wish this Play were more worthy of your
Lordship
's Acceptance: Yet so much, I hope, will be forgiven to the fondness of a Mother for her Production; if, I say, in its Favour, that through the whole Piece, I have had a tender regard to good Manners, and by the main Drift of it, endeavour'd to Redicule and Correct one of the most reigning Vices of the Age. I might say, as many of my
Brethren
have done upon slighter Grounds, that this Play has had the good Fortune to Please and Divert the Nicest, and Politest Part of the Town; but I should set little Stress on their Applause, had I not some reason to depend upon your
Lordship
's Approbation, whose Judgement, Penetration and Discernment, are alone sufficient to do full Justice to a performance of this Kind.
And now, my
Lord,
if I follow'd the beaten Road of Dedicators, it would naturally Engage me in a
Panegirick,
upon your Lordship's Personal Virtues, and those of your
Noble
and
Pious Family;
but I shall purposely decline a Talk to which I freely own my Ability is Unequal, and which, tho' manag'd by a
Masterly Pen,
would make your Modesty suffer. Therefore I shall conclude, with begging your
Lordship
's leave to Subscribe my self, with all imaginable Respect and Sincerity.
My LORD,
Your Lordship's most Obedient, and most Devoted Humble Servant,
PROLOGUE
Spoke by Mr.
Penkethman.
IN all the Faces that to Plays Resort,
Whether of Country, City, Mob or Court;
I've always found that none such hopes Inspire,
As you—dear Brethren of the Upper Tire.
Poets in Prologues, may both Preach and Rail,
Yet all their Wisdom, nothing will avail,
Who writes not up to you, 'tis ten to one will fail.
Your thundring plaudit 'tis that deals out Fame,
You make Plays run, tho' of themselves but Lame:
How often have we known your Noise Commanding,
Impose on your Inferior Masters Understanding;
Therefore, Dear Brethren, (since I am one of you)
Whether adorn'd in Grey, Green, Brown or Blue,
This day stand all by me, as I will fall by you,
And now to let—
The poor Pit see how Pinky's Voice Commands,
Silence—Now rattle all your Sticks, and clap your grimy Hands▪
I greet your Love—and let the vainest Author show,
Half this Command on clearer Hands below,
Nay, more to prove your Interest, let this Play live by you.
So may you share good Claret with your Masters,
Still free in your Amours from their Disasters;
Free from poor House-keeping, where Peck is under Locks▪
Free from Cold Kitchings, and no Christmas Box:
So may no long Debates i'th' House of Commons,
Make you in the Lobby Starve, when hungar Summons:
But may your plentious Vails come flowing in,
Give you a lucky hit, and make you Gentlemen;
And thus preferr'd, ne'er fear the World's Reproaches,
But shake your Elbows with my Lord, and keep your Coaches:
EPILOGUE
Spoke by Mr.
Esthcourt.
THis goodly Fabrick to a gazing Tarr,
Seems Fore and Aft, a Three Deckt-man os War.
Abaft, the Hold's the Pit, from thence look up,
Aloft! that Swabber's Nest, that's the Main-Top.
Side-boxes mann'd with Beau, and modish Rake,
Are like the Fore-castle, and Quarter-Deck.
Those dark disguised, advent'rous, black-nos'd few,
May pass for Gunners, or a Fire-ship's Crew.
Some come like Privateers a Prize to seize,
And catch the
French
within the Narrow Seas.
The Orange-Ladies, Virgins of Renown,
Are Powder-Monkies running up and down.
We've here our Calms, our Storms, and prosp'rous Gales,
And shift our Scenes as Seamen shift their Sails.
The Ship's well mann'd, and not ill Woman'd neither,
So Ballast'd and Stow'd, my Lads, she'll bear the Weather.
But greater Dangers ventring Players alarm,
This Night's Engagement's worse than any Storm.
The Poet's Captain, but half dead with fright,
She leaves her Officers to maintain the Fight;
Yon'd middle Teer with Eighteen Pounders mauls us,
That Upper-Deck with Great and Small-Shot gauls us.
But from this Lower-Teer most Harm befals,
There's no opposing their prevailing Balls.
As either Foe or Friend their Chain-shot flies,
We sink or swim, we Conquer, Fall or Rise.
To fit and rig our Ships much Pains we take;
Grant we may now a Saving-Voyage make.
Here we're Embark'd, and as you Smile or Frown,
You are our Stars, by You we Live or Drown.
Dramatis Personae.
Men.
Mr.
Mills,
Lord
Worthy
— In Love with Lady
Reveller,
a hater of Gaming.
Mr.
Wilks,
Sir
James Courtly
— An airy Gentleman, given to Gaming.
Mr.
Bigerstaff,
Lovely
an Ensign — In Love with
Valeria.
Mr.
Bullock.
Sir
Rich. Plainman
— Formerly a Citizen, but now lives in
Covent-Garden,
a great lover of a Soldier, and an Inverate Enemy to the
French.
Mr.
Esthcourt,
Captain
Hearty
— A Sea Officer, design'd by Sir
Richard
to Marry
Valeria.
Mr.
Johnson,
Sago
— A
Drugster
in the City, very fond of his Wife.
Mr.
Penkethman
Buckle.
— Footman to Lord
Worthy
Women.
Mrs.
Oldfield,
Lady
Reveller
— A Coquetish Widow, that keeps a
Basset-Table.
Mrs.
Rogers,
Lady
Lucy
— Her Cousin, a Religious sober Lady.
Mrs.
Montford,
Valeria
— A Philosophical Girl, Daughter to Sir
Richard,
in Love with
Lovely.
Mrs.
Cross,
Mrs.
Sogo
— The
Drugster's
Wife, a Gaming profuse Woman, great with my Lady
Reveller,
in Love with Sir
James.
Mrs.
Lucas,
Alpiew.
— Woman to Lady
Reveller.
Ladies, Gentlemen, for the
Basset-Table.
Chair-man, Foot-men,
&c.
Scene. Lady
Reveller
s Lodgings in
Covent-Garden
; the Time; Four of the Clock in the Morning.
THE Basset Table.
ACT I.
A large Hall, a Porter with a Staff, several Chairs Waiting, and Footmen a-sleep, with Torches and Flambeauxs standing about the Room.
CErtainly they'l Play all Night, this is a cursed Life.
How long have you liv'd with your Lady?
A Month, too long by thirty Days, if this be her way of living; I shall be dead before the Year's out; she Games all Night, and Sleeps all Day.
As long as you sleep, what's Matter?
But I do not, for while she sleeps, I'm Employ'd in Howdee's, from one end of the Town to the other.
But you rest while she's Gaming; What would you do, if you led my Life? This is my Lady's constant Practice
Your Lady keeps a
Basset Table,
much good may do you with your Service—Hark, they are broke up.
[within.]
ha, hy, my Lady
Gamewel
's Chair ready there—Mr.
Sonica
's Servant
(The Footmen wake in a hurry.
Where the Devil is my Flambeaux?
So-hey
—Robin,
get the Chair ready, my Lady's coming; stay, stay, let me light my Flambeaux.
[waking]
Hey, hoa, what han't they done Play yet?
They are now coming down, but your Lady is gone half an hour ago.
The Devil she is, why did not you call me?
I did not see you.
Was you Blind?—She has lost her Money, that's certain—She never flinches upo naW inning-Hand—her Plate and Jewels Walks to Morrow to replenish her Pocket—a Pox of Gaming, I say.
[Exit.
[Within.]
Mr.
Looseall
's Man—
Here—So-ho, who has stole my Flambeaux?
[Within.]
My Lady
Umbray
's Coach there.—
Hey!
Will,
pull up there
(Exeunt Omnes.)
Enter Lady
Reveller
and
Alpiew,
her Woman.
My Lady
Raffle
is horridly out of humour at her ill Fortune, she lost 300
l.
She has generally ill luck, yet her Inclination for Play is as strong as ever.—Did your Ladyship win, or lose, Madam?
I won about 50
l.—
prethee what shall we do,
Alpiew?
'Tis a fine Morning, 'tis pity to go to Bed.
What does your Ladiship think of a Walk in the Park?—The Park is pleasant in a Morning, the Air is so very sweet.
I don't think so; the sweetness of the Park is at Eleven, when the Beau
Monde
makes their Tower there, 'tis an unpolish'd Curiosity to walk when only Birds can see one.
Bless me, Madam! Your Uncle—now for a Sermon of two Hours.
Enter Sir
Richard Plainman,
in a Night-Gown as from Bed.
So Niece! I find you're resolv'd to keep on your course of Life; I must be wak'd at Four with Coach, Coach, Chair, Chair; give over for shame, and Marry, Marry, Niece.
Now would I forfeit the Heart of my next Admirer, to know the cause of this Reproach. Pray, Uncle, explain'd your self; for I protest I can't guess what Crime I have unhappily committed to merit this advice.
How can you look me in the Face, and ask me that Question? Can you that keep a Basset-Table, a publick Gaming-House, be insensible of the shame on't? I have often told you how much the vast concurse of People, which Day and Night make my House their Rendevouze, incommode my Health; your Apartment is a Parade for Men of all Ranks, from the Duke to the Fidler, and your Vanity thinks they all pay Devoir to your Beauty—but you mistake, every one has his several end in Meeting here, from the Lord to the Sharper, and each their seperate Interest to Admire—some Fools there may be, for there's seldom a crowd without.
Malice—some Fools? I can't bear it.
Nay, 'tis very affronting, truly Madam.
Ay, is it not
Alpiew?—
Yet, now I think on't, 'tis the defect of Age to rail at the Pleasure's of Youth, therefore I shall not disorder my Face with a frown about it. Ha, ha, I hope, Uncle, you'l take peculiar care of my Cousin
Valeria,
in disposing of her according to the Breeding you have given her.
The Breeding I have given her! I would not have her have your Breeding, Mistress, for all the Wealth of
England
's Bank; no, I bread my Girl in the Country, a stranger to the Vices of this Town, and am resolv'd to Marry her to a Man of Honour, Probity and Courage.
What the Sea Captain, Uncle? Faugh, I hate the smell of Pitch and Tarr; one that can Entertain one with nothing but Fire and Smoak, Larboard and Starboard, and t'other Bowl of Punch, ha, ha, ha.
And for every fault that she commits he'll condemn her to the Bilboes, ha, ha.
I fancy my Cousin's Philosophy, and the Captain's Couragious Bluster, will make Angelick Harmony.
Yes, Madam, sweeter Harmony than your
Sept & Le
Fops, Rakes and Gamesters; give me the Man that serves my Country, that preserves both my Estate and Life—Oh, the glorious Name of Soldier; if I were Young, I'd go my self in Person, but as it is—
You'll send your Daughter—
Yes, Minx, and a good Dowry with her, as a reward for Virtue like the Captains.
But suppose, Sir, Mrs.
Valeria
should not like him?
I'll suppose no such thing, Mistress, she shall like him.
Why, there tis now, indeed, Uncle, your're too positive.
And you to Impertinent: Therefore I resolve to quit your House; you shan't keep your Revels under the Roof where I am.
I'd have you to know, Sir, my Lady keeps no Revels beneath her Quality.
Hold your Tongue, Mrs.
Pert,
or I shall display your Quality in its proper Colours.
I don't care, say your worst of me, and spare not; but for my Lady—my Lady's a Widdow, and Widdows are accountable to none for their Actions—Well, I shall have a Husband one of those days, and be a Widow too, I hope.
Not unlikely, for the Man will hang himself the next day, I warrant him.
And if any, Uncle, pretends to controul my Actions—
He'd loose his labour, I'm certain—
I'd treat him—
Don't provoke me, Houswife, don't.
Be gone, and wait in the next Room.
(Ex. Alpiew.
The Insolence of a Servant, is a great Honour to the Lady, no doubt; but I shall find a way to humble you both.
Lookee, Unkle, do what you can, I'm resolv'd to follow my own Inclinations.
Which infallibly carries you to Noise, Nonsence, Foppery and Ruin; but no matter, you shall out of my Doors, I'll promise you, my House shall no longer bear the Scandalous Name of a
Basset Table:
Husbands shall no more have cause to date their Ruin from my Door, nor cry there, there my Wife Gam'd my Estate away—Nor Children Curse my Posterity, for their Parents knowing my House.
No more threatning, good Unkle, act as you please, but don't scold, or I shall be oblig'd to call
Alpiew
again.
Very well, very well, see what will come on't; the World will censure those that Game, and, in my Conscience, I believe not without Cause.
For she whose Shame, no good Advice can wake,
When Money's wanting, will her Virtue Stake.
(Exit.)
Advice! Ha, ha, ridiculous Advice.
(Enter Lady
Lucy
)
No sooner rid of one mischief, but another follows—I foresee this is to be a day of Mortification,
Alpiew.
Enter
Alpiew.
Madam.
My Uncle's gone, you may come in, ha, ha, ha.
Fye, Cousin, does it become you to Laugh at those that give you Council for your good?
For my good! Oh, mon cour? Now cannot I Divine what 'tis, that I do more than the rest of the World, to deserve this blame.
Nor I, for the Soul of me.
Shou'd all the rest of the World follow your Ladyship's Example, the order of Nature would be inverted, and every good, design'd by Heaven, become a Curse, Health and Plenty no longer would be known among us.—You cross the purpose of the Day and Night, you Wake when you should Sleep, and make all who have any dependence on you, Wake while you Repose.
Bless me, may not any Person Sleep when they please?
No, there are certain Hours, that good Man
Modesty and Health require your Care; for Exam
disorderly Hours are neither Healthful nor Modest—
not Civil to make Company wait Dinner for your
.
Why, does any body Dine before four a Clock in
London?
For my part I think it an Ill-bred Custom, to make my Appetite Pendulum to the Twelfth hour.
Besides, 'tis out of Fashion to Dine by Day light, and so I told Sir
Richard
yesterday, Madam.
No doubt, but you did, Mrs.
Alpiew;
and then you entertain such a Train of People, Cousin, that my Lady
Reveller
is as noted as a publick Ordinary, where every Fool with Money finds a Welcome.
Would you have me shut my doors against my Friends—Now she is jealous of Sir
James Courtly.
(aside.)
Besides, is it possible to pass the Evenings without Diversions.
No certainly—
I think the Play-house, the much more innocent and commendable Diversion.
To be seen there every Night, in my Opinion, is more destructive to the Reputation.
Well, I had rather be noted every Night in the front Box, then, by my absence, once be suspected of Gaming; one ruins my Estate and Character, the other diverts my Temper, and improves my Mind. Then you have such a number of Lovers.
Oh
Cupid,
is it a Crime to have a number of Lovers? If it be, 'tis the pleasantest Crime in the World. A Crime that falls not every day, to every Womans Lot.
I dare be positive every Woman does not wish it.
Because wishes have no Effect, Cousin, ha, ha.
Methinks my Lord
Worthy
's Assiduity might have banish'd the admiring Croud by this time.
Banish'd 'em? Oh, Mon cour! what pleasure is there in one Lover; 'tis like being seen always in one Suit of Cloaths; a Woman, with one Admirer, will ne'er be a Reigning Toast.
I am sure those that Encourage more, will never have the Character of a Reigning Virtue.
I slight the malicious Censure of the Town, yet defy it to asperse my Verture; Nature has given me a Face, a Shape, a Mein, an Air for Dress, and Wit and Humour to subdue. And shall I lose my Conquest for a Name.
Nay, and among the unfashionable sort of People too, Madam; for Persons of Breeding and Quality will allow, that Gallantry and Virtue are not inseperable.
But Coquetry and Reputation are, and there is no differerence in the Eye of the World, between having really committed the Fault, and lying under the Scandal; for, my own part, I would take as much Care to preserve my Fame, as you would your Virtue.
A little pains will serve you for that, Cousin; for I never once heard you nam'd—A Mortification would break my Heart, ha, ha.
'Tis better never to be nam'd, than to be ill spoke of; but your Reflections shall not Disorder my Temper. I could wish, indeed, to convince you of your Error, because you share my Blood; but since I see the Vanity of the attempt, I shall desist.
I humbly thank your Ladiship.
Oh! Madam, here's my Lord
Worthy,
Sir
James Courtly,
and Ensign
Lovely,
coming down; will your Ladyship see them?
Now have I a strong Inclination to Engage Sir
James,
to discompose her Gravity; for if I have any Skill in Glances, she loves him—but then my Lord
Worthy
is so peevish since our late Quarrel, that I'm afraid to Engage the Knight in a Ducl; besides, my Absence, I know, will teize him more, therefore, upon Consideration, I'le retire. Cousin
Lucy;
Good Morrow. I'le leave you to better Company, there's a Person at hand may prevent your Six-a-Clock Prayers.
(Exit.)
Ha! Sir
James Courtly—
I must own I think him agreeable—but am sorry she believes I do. I'le not be seen; for if what I scarce know my self be grown so visible to her, perhaps, he too may Discover it, and then I am lost.
While in the Breast our Secrets close remain,
'Tis out of Fortunes power to give us Pain.
[Exit.
Enter Lord
Worthy,
Sir
James,
Ensign
Lovel.
Ha! was not that Lady
Lucy?
It was—ah, Sir
James,
I find your Heart is out of Order about that Lady, and my Lord
Worthy
languishes for Lady
Reveller.
And thou art sick for
Valeria,
Sir
Richard
's Daughter. A poor distresled Company of us.
'Tis true, that little she-Philosopher has made me do Pennance more heartily than ever my sins did; I deserve her by meer Dint of Patience. I have stood whole hours to hear her Assert that Fire cannot Burn, nor Water Drown, nor Pain Afflict, and forty ridiculous Systems—and all her Experiments on Frogs, Fish—and Flies, ha, ha, ha, without the lcast Contradiction.
Contradiction, no, no, I allow'd all she said with undoubtedly, Madam,—I am of your mind, Madam, it must be so—natural Causes,
&c.
Ha, ha, ha, I think it is a supernatural cause which Enables thee to go thro' this Fatigue, if it were not to raise thy Fortune, I should think thee Mad to pursue her; but go on and prosper, nothing in my Power shall be wanting to assist you—My Lord
Worthy—
your Lordship is as Melancholy as a losing Gamester.
Faith, Gentlemen, I'm out of Humour, but I don't know at what.
Why then I can tell you, for the very same reason that made your Lordship stay here to be Spectator of the very Diversion you hate—Gaming—the same Cause makes you uneasy in all Company, my Lady
Reveller.
Thou hast hit it,
James,
I confess I love her Person, but hate her Humours, and her way of Living; I have some reasons to believe I'm not indifferent to her, yet I despair of fixing her, her Vanity has got so much the Mistress of her Resolution; and yet her Passion for Gain furmounts her Pride, and lays her Reputation open to the World. Every Fool that has ready Money, shall dare to boast himself her very humble Servant; 'ds Death, when I could cut the Rascal's Throat.
your Lordship is even with her one Way, for you are as testy as she's vain, and as fond of an opportunity to Quarrel with her, as she of a Gaming Acquaintance; my Opinion is, my Lord, she'll ne're be won your Way.
To gain all Women there's a certain Rule,
If Wit should sail to please, then Act the Fool;
And where you find simplicity not take,
Throw off Disguises—and Profess the Rake;
Observe which Way their chiefest Humours run,
They're by their own lov'd, can't the surest Way undone.
Thou'rt of a happy temper, Sir
James,
I wish I could be so too; but since I can't add to your Diversion, I'll take my leave, good Morrow, Gentlemen.
(Exit.)
This it is to have more Love than Reason about one; you and I
Lovely
will go on with Discretion, and yet I fear it's in Lady
Lucy
's Power to banish it.
I find Mrs.
Sago,
the Drugsters Wife's Interest, begins to shake, Sir
James.
And I fear her Love for Play begins to shake her Husband's Baggs too—faith, I am weary of that Intreague, lest I should be suspected to have a hand in his Ruin.
She did not lose much to Night, I believe; preethy, Sir
James,
what kind of a temper'd Woman is she? Has she Wit?
That she has—A large Portion, and as much Cunning, or she could never have manag'd the old Fellow so nicely; she has a vast Passion for my Lady
Reveller,
and endeavours to mimick her in every thing—Not a sute of Cloaths, or a Top-knot, that is not exactly the same with hers—then her Plots and Contrivances to supply these Expences, puts her continually upon the Rack; yet to give her her due, she has a fertile Brain that Way; but come, shall we go home and sleep two or three Hours, at Dinner I'll introduce you to Capt.
Hearty,
the Sea Officer, your Rival that is to be, he's just come to Town.
A powerful Rival, I fear, for Sir
Richard
resolves to Marry him to his Daughter; all my hopes lyes in her Arguments, and you know Philosophers are very positive—and if this Captain does but happen to Contradict one Whimsical Notion, the Poles will as soon join, as they Couple, and rather then yield, she would go to the Indies in search of
Dampier
's Ants.
Nay, she is no Woman if she Obeys.
Women like Tides with Passions Ebb and Flow,
And like them too, their source no Man can know.
To watch their Motions, is the safest Guide,
Who hi
s their Humour, Sails with Wind and Tide.
[Exit.
The End of the First ACT.
ACT II.
Enter
Buckle,
meeting Mrs.
Alpiew.
GOod Morrow.
Good Morrow.
Good Morrow, good Morrow, is that all your business here; What means that Affected Look, as if you long'd to be examin'd what's the Matter.
The Capricio's of Love,
Madamoselle;
the Capricio's of Love.
Why—are you in Love?
I—in Love! No, the Divel take me if ever I shall be infected with that Madness, 'tis enough for one in a Family to Fall under the whimsical Circumstances of that Distemper. My Lord has a sufficient Portion for both; here—here—here's a Letter for your Lady, I believe the Contents are not so full of Stars and Darts, and Flames, as they us'd to be.
My Lady will not concern her self with your Lord, nor his Letters neither, I can assure you that.
So much the better, I'le tell him what you say—Have you no more?
Tell him it is not my fault, I have done as much for his Service, as lay in my Power, till I put her in so great a Passion, 'tis impossible to Appease her.
Very good—my Lord is upon the Square, I promise ye, as much inraged as her Ladiship to the full. Well, Mrs.
Alpiew,
to the longest Day of his Life he fwears, never to forget Yesterday's Adventure, that's given him perfect, perfect Liberty.
I believe so—What was it, pray?
I'll tell you; 'twas a matter of Consequence, I assure you, I've known Lovers part for a less Triffle by half.
No Disgressions, but to the point, what was it?
This—my Lord, was at the Fair with your Lady.
What of that?
In a Raffling-shop she saw a young Gentleman, which she said was very handsom—At the same time, my Lord, prais'd a young Lady; she redoubles her Commendations of the Beau—He enlarges on the Beauty of the Bell; their Discourse grew warm on the subject; they Pause; she begins again with the Perfections of the Gentleman; he ends with the same of the Lady; Thus they persu'd their Arguments, still finding such mighty Charms in their new Favourites, till they found one another so Ugly—so Ugly—that they parted with full Resolutions never to meet again.
Ha, ha, ha, pleasant; well, if you have no more to tell me, adieu.
Stay a Moment, I see my Lord coming, I thought he'd follow me. Oh, Lovers Resolutions—
Enter Lord
Worthy.
So, have you seen my Lady
Reveller?
(To Buckle.
My Lord—
Ha! Mrs.
Alpiew.
There's your Lordship's Letter.
(Gives him his own Letter.
An Answer! She has done me very much Honour.
My Lord, I am commanded—
Hold a little, dear Mrs.
Alpiew.
(All this while he is opening the Letter, thinking it from the Lady.)
My Lord, she would not—
Bequiet, I say—
I am very sorry—
But a moment—Ha, why, this is my own Letter.
Yes, my Lord.
Yes, my Lord—what, she'd not receive it then?
No, my Lord.
How durst you stay so long.
I beg your Lordship not to harbour an ill Opinion of me, I opposed her anger with my utmost Skill, prais'd all your Actions, all your Parts, but all in Vain.
Enough, Enough, Madam, she has taken the best method in the World—Well, then we are ne'er to meet again?
I know not that, my Lord—
I am over-joy'd at it, by my Life I am, she has only prevented me; I came a purpose to break with her—
(aside)
Yes, so 'twas a sign by the pleasure you discover'd, in thinking she had writ to you.
I suppose, she has entertain'd you with the Cause of this?
No, my Lord, never mention'd a Syllable, only said, she had for ever done with you; and charg'd me, as I valued her favour, to receive no Message nor Letter, from you.
May I become the very'st Wretch alive, and all the Ills immaginable fall upon my Head, if I speak to her more; nay, ever think of her but with Scorn—Where is she now?
(Walks about)
In her Dressing-room.
There let her be, I am weary of her fantastick Humours, affected Airs, and unaccountable Passions.
For half an Hour.
(Aside)
Do you know what she's a doing?
I believe, my Lord, trying on a Mantua; I left her with Mrs.
Pleatwell,
and that us'd to hold her a great while, for the Woman is saucily Familiar with all the Quality, and tells her all the Scandal.
And conveys Letters upon occasion; 'tis tack'd to their Profession—But, my Lady
Reveller
may do what she pleases, I am no more her Slave, upon my Word; I have broke my Chain—She has not been out then since she Rose?
No, my Lord.
Nay, if she has, or has not, 'tis the same thing to me; she may go the end of the World, if she will; I shan't take any pains to follow her—Whose Footman was that I met?
I know not, my Lord, we have so many come with How-dee's, I ne'er mind them.
You are uneasy, Child, come, I'll not detain you, I have no curiosity, I protest I'm satisfied if she's so, I assure ye, let her despise me, let her hate me, 'tis all one, adieu.
(Going.
My Lord, your Servant.
Mrs
Alpiew,
let me beg one favour of you,
(turns back.)
not to say I was here.
I'll do just as you please, my Lord.
Do that then, and you'll oblige me,
I will.
(Is going, and comes back often.)
Don't forget.
Your Lordship may depend upon me.
Hold, now I think on't—Pray
ll her you did see me, do ye hear?
With all my Heart.
Tell her how indifferent she is to me in every respect.
I shan't fail.
Tell her every thing, just as I exprest it to you.
I will.
Adieu
(going.)
Your Servant.
Now, I think on't, Mrs
Alpiew,
I have a great mind she shou'd know my Sentiments from my own Mouth.
Nay, my Lord, I can't promise you that.
Why?
Because she has expresly forbid your admittance.
I'd speak but one Word with her.
Impossible.
Pugh, prethee do, let me see her,
(intreating Mrs
Alpiew.
)
So now, all this mighty rage ends in a begging Submission.
Only tell her I'm here.
Why should you desire me to meet her Anger, my Lord?
Come, you shall oblige me once.
(Puts a Ring upon her Finger.)
Oh, dear, my Lord, you have such a command over your Servant, I can refuse nothing.
Exit.)
Have you been at the Goldsmiths about the Bills, for I am fix'd on Travelling.
Your Lordship's so disturb'd, you have forgot you Countermanded me, and send me hither.
True.
Enter Mrs.
Alpiew.
Just as I told your Lordship, she fell in a most violent Passion, at the bare mention of your Name; tell him, said she, in a heroick Strain, I'll never see him more, and command him to quit that Room, 'cause I'm coming to't.
Tyrant, curse on my Follies, she knows her Power; well, I hope, I may walk in the Gallery; I would speak with her Uncle.
To be sure, my Lord.
(Exit. Lord
Worthy.
)
Learn, Mistress, learn, you may come to make me Mad in time, ha, ha, ha.
Go Fool, follow your Lord.
(Exit.
Buckle.
)
Enter Lady
Reveller.
Well, I'll swear,
Alpiew,
you have given me the Vapours for all Day.
Ah! Madam, if you had seen him, you must have had Compassion; I would not have such a Heart of Adamant for the World; poor Lord, sure you have the strangest Power over him.
Silly—one often Fanices one has Power, when one has none at all; I'll tell the
Alpiew,
he vex'd me strangely before this grand Quarrel; I was at
Picquet
with my Lady
Love-Witt
four Nights ago, and bid him read me a new Copy of Verses, because, you know, he never Plays, and I did not well know what to do with him; he had scarce begun, when I being eager at a Pique, he rose up, and said, he believ'd I lov'd the Musick of my own Voice, crying Nine and Twenty, Threescore, better than the sweetest Poetry in the Universe, and abruptly left us.
A great Crime, indeed, not to read when People are at a Game they are oblig'd to talk to all the while.
Crime, yes, indeed was it, for my Lady loves Poetry better than Play, and perhaps before the Poem had been done had lost her Money to me. But, I wonder,
Alpiew,
by what Art 'tis you engage me in this Discourse, why shou'd I talk of a Man that's utterly my Aversiou—Have you heard from Mrs.
Sago
this Morning?
Certainly, Madam, she never sails; she has sent your Ladiship the finest Cargo made up of Chocolate, Tea, Montifiasco Wine, and 50 Rarities beside, with something to remember me, good Creature, that she never forgets. Well, indeed, Madam, she is the best natur'd Woman in the World; it grieves me to think what Sums she loses at Play.
Oh fye, she must, a Citizen's Wife is not to be endur'd amongst Quality; had she not Money, 'twere impossible to receive her—
Nay, indeed, I must say that of you Women of Quality, if there is but Money enough, you stand not upon Birth or Reputation, in either Sex; if you did, so many Sharpers of
Covent-Garden,
and Mistresles of St.
James
's, would not be daily admitted.
Peace, Impertinence, you take strange Freedoms.
[Enter
Veleria
running.]
Why in such hast Cousin
Valeria.
[Stopping her.]
Oh! dear Cousin, don't stop me, I shall lose the finest Infect for Desection, a huge Flesh Fly, which Mr.
Lovely
sent me just now, and opening the Box to try the Experiment away it flew.
I am glad the poor Fly escap'd; will you never be weary of these Whimsies?
Whimsies! natural Peilosophy a Whimsy! Oh, the unlearn'd World.
Ridiculous Learning?
Ridiculous, indeed, for Women; Philosophy Sutes our Sex, as Jack Boots would do.
Custom would bring them as much in Fashion as Furbeloes, and Practice would make us as Valiant as e're a Hero of them all; the Resolution is in the Mind,—Nothing can enslave that.
My Stars! this Girl will be Mad, that's certain.
Mad
so
Nero
Banish'd Philosophers from
Rome,
and the first Discoverer of the
Antipodes
was Condemn'd for a Heretick.
In my Conscience,
Alpiew,
this pritty Creature's spoil'd. Well, Cousin, might I Advise, you should bestow your Fortune in Founding a College for the Study of Philosophy, where none but Women should be admitted, and to Immortalize your Name, they should be call'd
Vale
ans,
ha, ha, ha.
What you make a Jest of, Id'e Execute, were Fortune in my Power.
All Men would not be Excluded, the handsom Ensign, Madam.
In Love? Nay, there's no Philosophy against Love,
Solon
for that.
Pisha, no more of this Triffling Subject; Cousin, will you believe there's any thing without Gaul?
I am satisfy'd I have one, when I lose at Play, or see a Lady Addrest when I am by, and 'tis equal to me, whether the rest of the Creation have or not.
Well, but I'le convince you then, I have dissected my Dove—and positively I think the Vulgar Notion true, for I could find none.
Oh, Barbarous; kill'd your pritty Dove!
[Starting.
Kill'd it! Why, what did you Imagine I bred it up for? Can Animals, Insects or Reptils, be put to a Nobler use, than to improve our Knowledge? Cousin, I'll give you this Jewel for your
Italian
Grey-hound.
What, to Cut to Pieces? Oh, horrid! he had need be a Soldier that ventures on you, for my part, I should Dream of nothing but Incision, Dissection and Amputation, and always fancy the Knife at my Throat.
Enter Servant.
Madam, here's Sir
Richard,
and a—
A— What, is it an Accident, a Substance, a Material Being, or, a Being of Reason?
I don't know what you call a Material Being; it is a Man.
P'sha, a Man, that's nothing.
She'll prove by and by out of
Discartes,
that we are all Machines.
(Enter Sir
Richard,
and Capt.
Firebrand.
)
Oh, Madam, do you see who observes you? My Lord walking in the Gallery, and every Minute gives a Peep.
Does he so? I'll fit him for Eves-dropping—
Sir, I like the Relation you have given me of your Naval Expedition, your Discourse speaks you a Manfit for the Sea.
You had it without a flourish, Sir
Richard,
my Word is this, I hate the
French,
Love a handsome Woman, and a Bowl of Punch.
Very Blunt.
This is my Daughter, Captain, a Girl of sober Education; she understands nothing of Gaming, Parks and Plays.
But wanting these Diversions, she has supply'd the Vacancy with greater Follies.
[Aside.]
A Tite little Frigate,
[Salutes her]
Faith, I think, she looks like a freshman Sea-sick—but here's a Gallant Vessel—with all her Streamers out, Top and Top Gallant—with your leave, Madam,
(Salutes her)
who is that Lady, Sir
Richard?
'Tis a Niece of mine, Captain—tho' I am sorry she is so, she values nothing that does not spend their days at their Glass, and their Nights at
Basset,
such who ne'er did good to their Prince, nor Country, except their Taylor, Peruke-maker, and Persumer.
Fy, fy, Sir, believe him not, I have a Passion, an extream Passion, for a Hero—especially if he belongs to the Sea; methinks he has an Air so Fierce, so Piercing, his very Looks commands Respect from his own Sex, and all the Hearts of ours.
The Divel—Now, rather than let another Female have a Man to her self, she'll make the first Advances.
(aside.)
Ay, Madam, we are preferr'd by you fine Ladies sometimes before the sprucer Sparks—there's a Conveniency in't; a fair Wind, and we hale out, and leave you Liberty and Money, two things the most acceptable to a Wife in Nature.
Oh! ay, it is so pretty to have one's Husband gone Nine Months of the Twelve, and then to bring one home fine China, fine Lace, fine Muslin, and fine Indian Birds, and a thousand Curiosities.
No, no, Nine is a little too long, six would do better for one of your Constitution, Mrs.
Well, Madam, what think you of a cruising Voyage towards the Cape of Matrimony, your Father designs me for the Pilot, if you agree to it, we'll hoist Sail immediately.
I agree to any thing dictated by good Sense, and comprehended within the Borders of Elocution, the converss I hold with your Sex, is only to improve and cultivate the Notions of my Mind.
What the Devil is she going upon now?
[Aside.]
I presume you'r a Mariner, Sir—
I have the Honour to bear the Queen's Commission, Madam.
Pray, speak properly, positively, Laconically and Naturally.
So she has given him a Broadside already.
Laconically? Why, why, what is your Daughter? Sir
Richard,
ha
May I be reduc'd to Wooden-Shoes, if I can tell you, the Devil; had I liv'd near a College, the Haunts of some Pedaunt might have brought this Curse upon me; but to have got my Estate in the City, and to have a Daughter run Mad after Philosophy, I'll ne'er suffer it in the rage I am in, I'll throw all the Books and Mathematical Instruments out of the Window.
I dare say, Uncle, you have shook hands with Philosophy—for I'm sure you have banish'd Patience, ha, ha, ha.
And you Discretion—By all my hatred for the
French,
they'll drive me Mad; Captain I'll expect you in the next Room, and you Mrs
Laconick,
with your Philosophy at your Tail.
(Exit.)
Shan't I come too, Uncle, ha, ha.
By
Neptune,
this is a kind of a whimsical Family; well, Madam, what was you going to say so positively and properly, and so forth?
I would have ask'd you, Sir, if ever you had the curiosity to inspect a Mermaid—Or if you are convinc'd there is a World in every Star—We, by our Telliscopes, find Seas, Groves and Plains, and all that; but what they are Peopled with, there's the Query.
Let your next Contrivance be how to get thither, and then you'll know a World in every Star—Ha, ha, she's fitter for
Moorfields
than Matrimony, pray, Madam, are you always infected, full and change, with this Distemper?
How has my reason err'd, to hold converse with an irrational Being—Dear, dear Philosophy, what immense pleasures dwell in thee!
Enter Servant.
Madam,
John,
has got the Fish you sent him in search of.
Is it alive?
Yes, Madam.
Your Servant, your Servant, I would not lose the Experiment for any thing, but the tour of the new World.
(Exit.
Ha, ha, ha, is your Ladiship troubled with thefe Vagaries too; is the whole House possest?
Not I, Captain, the speculative faculty is not my Talent; I am for the practick, can lissen all Day, to hear you talk of Fire, substantial Fire, Rear and Front, and Line of Battle—admire a Seaman, hate the
French,—
love a Bowl of Punch? Oh, nothing so agreeable as your Conversation, nothing so Jaunty as a Sea Captain.
So, this engages him to Play,—If he has either Manners or Money.
(aside.
Ay, give me the Woman that can hold me tack in my own Dialect—She's Mad too, I suppose, but I'll humour her a little.
(aside)
Oh, Madam, not a fair Wind, nor a rich Prize, nor Conquest o're my Enemies, can please like you; accept my Heart without Capitulation—'Tis yours, a Prisoner at Discretion.
(Kisses her Hand.
Enter Lord
Worthy.
Hold, Sir, you must there contend with me; the Victory is not so easy as you imagine.
Oh fye, my Lord, you won't fight for one you hate and despise? I may trust you with the Captain, ha, ha, ha.
(Exit.
This must be her Lover—And he is Mad another way; this is the most unaccountable Family I ever met with.
(aside)
Lookye, Sir, what you mean by contending I know not; but I must tell you, I don't think any Woman I have seen since I came ashoar worth Fighting for. The Philosophical Gimcrack I don't value of a Cockle Shell—And am too well acquainted with the danger of Rocks and Quick-sands, to steer into t'others Harbour.
He has discover'd her already; I, only I, am blind.
(aside.)
But, Sir, if you have a mind to a Breathing, here tread upon my Toe, or speak but one Word in favour of the
,
or against the Courage of our Fleet, and my Sword will start of its self, to do its Master, and my Country, Justice.
How ridiculous do I make my self—Pardon me, Sir, you are in the right. I confess I scarce knew what I did.
I thought so, poor Gentleman, I pitty him; this is the effect of Love on shoar—When do we hear of a Tarr in these
its, longer then the first fresh Gale—Well, I'll into Sir
Richard,
Eat with him, Drink with him: but to Match into his Generation, I'd as soon Marry one of his Daughters Mermaids.
(Exit.)
Was ever Man so stupid as my self? But I will rouse from this Lethargick Dream, and seek elsewhere what is deny'd at home, absence may restore my Liberty.
Enter Mr.
Sago.
Pray, my Lord, did you see my
Keecky.
Keecky,
what's that?
My Wife, you must know, I call her
Keecky,
ha, ha.
Not I, indeed—
Nay, pray my Lord, ben't angry, I only want her, to tell her what a Present of fine Wine is sent her just now; and ha, ha, ha, ha, what makes me Laugh—Is that, no Soul can tell from whence it comes.
Your Wife knows, no doubt.
No more than my self, my Lord—We have often Wine and Sweet-meats; nay, whole pieces of Silk, and the duce take me, if she could devise from whence; nay, sometimes she has been for sending them back again, but I cry'd, whose a Fool then—
I'm sure thou art one in perfection, and to me insupportable.
[Going]
My Lord, I know your Lordship has the Priviledge of this House, pray do me the Kindness if you find my Wife to send her out to me.
[Exit
Lord.
]
I ne'er saw so much of this Lord's Humour before; he is very Surly Methinks—Adod there are some Lords of my Wives Acquaintance, as Civil and Familiar with me, as I am with my Journeyman—Oh! here she comes.
Enter Mrs.
Sago
and
Alpiew.
Oh Puddy, see what my Lady
Reveller
has presented me withal.
Hey Keecky, why sure you Rise—as the saying is, for at Home there's Four Hampers of Wine sent ye.
From whence, Dear Puddy?
Nay, there's the Jest, neither you nor I know. I offer'd the Rogue that brought it a Guinea to tell from whence it came, and he Swore he durst not.
No, if he had I'd never have Employ'd him again.
[Aside.]
So I gave him Half a Crown, and let him go.
It comes very Opportunely pray Puddy send a Couple of the Hampers to my Lady
Revelleras
a small Acknowledgement for the Rich Present she has made me.
With all my Heart, my Jewel, my Precious.
Puddy, I am strangely oblig'd to Mrs.
Alpiew,
do, Puddy, do, Dear Puddy.
What?
Will ye, then? Do, Dear Puddy, do, lend me a Guinea to give her, do.
[Hanging upon him in a Wheedling Tone.]
P'shaw, you are always wanting Guineas, I'll send her Half a Pound of
Tea,
Keecky.
Tea—
sha—she Drinks Ladies
Tea;
do, Dear Pudd, do; can you deny Keecky now?
Well, well, there.
(Gives it her.)
Mrs.
Alpiew,
will you please to lay the Silk by for me, till I send for it, and accept of That?
Your Servant Madam, I'll be careful of it.
Thank ye, Borrow as much as you can on't, Dear
Alpiew.
[Aside to her.]
I warrant you, Madam.
[Exit.]
I must Raise a Summ for
Basset
against Night.
Preethy Keecky, what kind of Humour'd Man is Lord
Worthy?
I did but ask him if he saw thee, and I Thought he would snapp'd my Nose off.
Oh a meer Woman, full of Spleen and Vapours, he and I never agree.
Adod, I thought so—I guest'd he was none of thy Admirers—Ha, ha, ha, why there's my Lord
Courtall,
and my Lord
Harncit,
bow down to the Ground to me wherever they meet me.
Enter
Alpiew.
Madam, Madam, the
Goldsmith
has sent in the Plate.
Very well, take it along with the Silk.
[Aside to her.]
Here's the
Jeweller;
Madam, with the Diamond Ring, but he don't seem willing to leave it without Money.
[Exit
Alpiew.
]
Humph? I have a sudden Thought, bid him stay, and bring me the Ring—Now for the Art of Wheedling.—
What are you Whispering about? Ha? Precious.—
Mrs.
Alpiew
says, a Friend of her has a Diamond Ring to Sell, a great Penny-worthand I know you love a Bargain Puddy.
Enter
Alpiew,
gives her the Ring.
P'shaw, I don't care for Rings; it may be a Bargain, and it may not; and I can't spare Money; I have Paid for a Lot this Morning; consider Trade must go forward, Lambkin.
See how it Sparkles.
Nay, Puddy, if it be not Worth your Money I don't desire you to Buy it; but don't it become my Finger, Puddy? See now.—
Ah! that Hand, that Hand it was which first got hold of my Heart; well what's the Price of it; Ha, I am ravish'd to see it upon Keecky's Finger.—
What did he say the Price was?
[To
Alpiew.
]
Two Hundred
Guineas,
Madam.
[Aside to Mrs. Sago.]
Threescore Pound, Dear Pudd, the Devils in't if he won't give that.
[Aside.]
Threescore Pounds? Why 'tis Worth a Hundred Child, Richly—'tis Stole—'tis Stole.—
Stole? I'd have you to know the Owner is my Relation, and has been as great a Merchant as any in
London,
but has had the Misfortune to have his Ships fall into the Hands of the
French,
or he'd not have parted with it at such a Rate; it Cost him Two Hundred
Guineas.
I believe as much; indeed 'tis very fine.
So it is Keecky, and that Dear little Finger shall have it to let me Bite it; a little Tiny bit.—
[Bites her Finger.]
Oh! Dear Pudd, you Hurt me.
Here—I han't so much Money about me, but ther's a Bill, Lambkin—there now, you'll Buss poor Puddy now, won't you?
Buss him—yes that I will agen, and agen, and agen. Dear Pudd.
[Flies about his Neck.]
You'll go Home with Puddy now to Dinner, won't you?
Yes—a—Dear Puddy, if you desire it—I will—but—a—
But what?
But I promis'd my Lady
Reveller
to Dine with her, Deary—do, let me Pudd—I'll Dine with you to Morrow-day.
Nay, I'm sure my Lady won't Eat a bit if she don't stay.
Well, they are all so Fond of my Wife, by Keecky, show me the Little Finger agen—Oh! Dear Little Finger, by Keecky.
[Aside.]
By own Pudd—Here
Alpiew
give him his Ring agen, I have my End, tell him 'tis to Dear.
But what will you say when Mr.
Sago.
Misses it.
I'll say—that it was two big for my Finger, and I lost it; 'tis but a Crying-bout, and the good Man melts into Pity—
I'th' Married State, this only Bliss we find,
An Easie Husband to our Wishes kind.
Iv'e Gain'd my Point, Replenish'd Purse once more,
Oh! cast me Fortune on the Winning Shore.
Now let me Gain what I have Lost before.
[Exit.]
ACT. III.
The Scene draws, and discovers
Valeria
with Books upon a Table, a Microscope, putting a Fish upon it, several Animals lying by.
SHA! Thou fluttering Thing.—So now I've fix'd it.
Enter
Alpiew.
Madam, here's Mr.
Lovely;
I have introduc'd him as One of my Lady's Visitors, and brought him down the Back-stairs.
I'm oblig'd to you, he comes opportunely.
Enter
Lovely.
Oh! Mr.
Lovely,
come, come here, look through this Glass, and see how the Blood Circulates in the Tale of this Fish.
Wonderful! but it Circulates prettier in this Fair Neck.
Pshaw—be quiet—I'll show you a Curiosity, the greatest that ever Nature made—
[opens a Box]
in opening a Dog the other Day I found this Worm.
Prodigious! 'tis the Joint-Worm, which the Learned talk of so much.
Ay, the
Lumbricus Latus,
or
Foescia,
as
Hippocrates
calls it, or Vulgarly in
English
the Tape-Worm.
—Thudaeus
tells us of One of these Worms found in a Human Body 200 Foot long, without Head or Tail.
I wish they be not got into thy Brain.
[Aside.]
Oh you Charm me with these Discoveries.
Here's another Sort of Worm call'd
Lumbricus teres Intestinalis.
I think the First you show'd me the greatest Curiosity.
'Tis very odd, really, that there should be every Inch a Joint, and every Joint a Mouth.—Oh the profound Secrets of Nature!
'Tis strangely Surprizing.—But now let me be heard, for mine's the Voice of Nature too; methinks you neglect your self, the most Perfect Piece of all her Works.
Why? What Fault do you find in me?
You have not Love enough; that Fire would Consume and Banish all Studies but its own; your Eyes wou'd Sparkle, and spread I know not what, of Lively and Touching, o'er the whole Face; this Hand, when Press'd by him you Love, would Tremble to your Heart.
Why so it does,—have I not told you Twenty Times I Love you,—for I hate Disguise; your Temper being Adapted to mine, gave my
the First Impression;—you know my Father's Positive,—but do not believe he shall Force me to any Thing that does not Love Philosophy.
But that Sea Captain
Valeria.
If he was a Whale he might give you Pain, for I should long to Dissect him; but as he is a Man, you have no Reason to Fear him.
Consent then to Fly with me.
What, and leave my Microscope, and all my Things, for my Father to break in Pleces?
Valeria, Valeria.
[Within.]
Oh Heav'ns! Oh Heav'ns! he is coming up the Back-stairs. What-shall we do?
Humph, ha, cann't you put me in that Closet there?
Oh no, I han't the Key.
I'll run down the Great Stairs, let who will see me.
[Going.]
Oh no, no, no, no, not for your Life;—here, here, here, get under this Tub.
Throws out some Fish in Hast, and Turns the Tub over him.
Sir, I'm here.
Enter Sir
Richard.
What, at your Whims—and Whirligigs, ye Baggage? I'll out at Window with them.
[Throwing away the Things.]
Oh Dear Father, save my
Lumbricus Latus.
I'll Lamprey and Latum you; what's that I wonder? Ha? Where the Devil got you Names that your Father don't understand? Ha?
[Treads upon them.]
Oh my poor Worm! Now have you destroy'd a Thing, that, for ought I know,
England
cann't produce again.
What is it good for? Answer me that?—VVhat's this Tub here for? Ha?
[Kicks it.]
What shall I do now?—it is, a 'tis a—Oh Dear Sir! Don't touch the Tub,—for there's a Bear's Young Cub that I have brought for Dissection,—but I dare not tonch it till the Keeper comes.
I'll Cub you, and Keeper you, with a Vengeance to you; is my Money laid out in Bears Cubs?—I'll drive out your Cub.—
Opens the Door, stands at a Distance off, and with his Cane, lifts up the Tub,
Lovely
rises.
Oh the Devil discover'd, your Servant Sir.
[Exit]
Oh! your Servant Sir—What is this your Bear's Cub? Ha Mistress? His Taylor has lick'd him nto Shape I find.—What did this Man do here? Ha Huswife?—I doubt you have been studying Natural Philosophy with a Vengeance.
Indeed, Sir, he only brought me a strange Fish, and hearing your Voice I was afraid you should be Angry, and so that made me hide him.
A Fish,—'tis the Flesh I fear; I'll have you Married to Night.—I believe this Fellow was the Beggarly Ensign, who never March'd farther than from
Whitehall
to the
Tower,
who wants your Portion to make him a Brigadier, without ever seeing a Battel—Huswife, ha—tho' your Philosophical Cant, with a Murrain to you—has put the Captain out of Conceit, I have a Husband still for you;—come along, come along, I'll send the Servants to clear this Room of your Bawbles,—
(pulls her off)
I will so.
But the Servants won't, Old Gentleman, that's my Comfort still.
(Exit.)
Re-enter
Lovely.
I'm glad they are gone, for the Duce take me if I cou'd hit the Way out.
Enter Sir
James.
Ha—Ensign! luckily met; I have been Labouring for you, and I hope done you a Piece of Service. Why, you look surpriz'd.
Surpriz'd! so wou'd you, Sir
Harry,
if you had been whelm'd under a Tub, without Room to Breath.
Under a Tub! Ha, ha, ha.
'Twas the only Place of Shelter.
Come, come, I have a better Prospect, the Captain is a very Honest Fellow, and thinks if you can bear with the Girl, you deserve her Fortune; here's your Part,
[Gives a Paper]
he'll give you your Cue, he stays at his Lodging for you.
What's the Design?
That will tell you; quick Dispatch.
Well, Sir
James,
I know you have a Prolifick Brain, and will rely on your Contrivances, and if it succeeds the Captain shall have a Bowl of Punch large enough to set his Ship afloat.
[Exit.]
Lady
Reveller,
Lady
Lucy,
Mrs.
Sago,
appear.
The Tea-Table broke up already! I fear there has been but small Recruits of Scandal to Day.
Well, I'll swear I think the Captain's a Pleasant Fellow.
That's because he made his Court to her.
[Aside.]
Uh—I Nauseate those Amphibious Creatures.
Umph, she was not Address'd to.
He seems neither to want Sense, Honour, nor True Courage, and methinks there is a Beauty in his Plain Delivery.
There spoke Sincerity without Affectation.
How shall we pass the Afternoon?
Aye, Ladies, how shall we?
You here! I thought you had Listed your self Volunteer under the Captain to Board some Prize, you whisper'd so often, and sneak'd out one after another.
Who would give one self the Pains to Cruise Abroad, when all one Values is at Home?
To whom is this Directed? Or will you Monopolize and Ingross us all?
No,—tho' you would wake Desire in every Beholder, I resign you to my Worthy Friend.
And the rest of the Company have no Pretence to you.
That's more than she knows.
[Aside.]
Beauty, like yours, wou'd give all Mankind Pretence.
So, not a Word to me; are these his Vows?
[In an uneasie Air.]
There's One upon the Teaze already.
[Aside.]
Why, you are in Disorder, my Dear; you look as if you had lost a
Trant-Leva:
What have you said to her, Sir
James?
I said, Madam? I hope I never say any Thing to offend the Ladies. The Devils in these Married Women, they cann't conceal their own Intriegues, though they Swear us to Secrecy.
[Aside.]
You mistake, Cousin, 'tis his saying nothing to her has put her upon the Fret.
Ah, your Observations are always Malicious.
I despise them, Dear Lady
Reveller,
let's in to Picquet; I suppose Lady
Lucy
would be pleas'd with Sir
James
alone to finish her Remarks.
Nay, if you remove the Cause, the Discourse ceases.
[Going up to her.]
This you draw upon your self, you will discover it.
[To her.]
Yes, your Falshood.
Come my Dear, Sir
James,
will you make One at a Pool?
Pardon me, Madam, I'm to be at
White
's in Half an Hour, anon at the
Basset-Table.
I'm Yours.
No, no, he cann't leave her.
[Going, still looking back.]
They play Gold, Sir
James.
[Going up to Lady
Lucy
]
Madam, were your Heart the Stake I'd Renounce all Engagements to win that, or retrieve my own.
I must like the Counterstake very well er'e I play so high.
Sir
James,
hearkee, One Word with you.
Breaking from Lady
Reveller
's Hand, pulling Sir
James
by the Sleeve.
Ha, ha, I knew she could not stir; I'll remove your Constraint, but, with my wonted Freedom, will tell you plainly—your Husband's Shop wou'd better become you than Gaming and Gallants. Oh Shame to Virtue, that we shou'd Copy Men in their most Reigning Vices!
Of Virtue's wholesome Rules unjustly we complain,
When Search of Pleasures gives us greater Pain.
How slightly we our Reputation Guard,
Which lost but once can never be Repair'd.
Farewel Sentences.
Enter
Alpiew.
Madam—
[Whispers her Lady.]
So then, you'd persuade me 'twas the Care of my Fame.
Nothing else I protest, my Dear little Rogue; I have as much Love as you, but I have more Conduct.
Well, you know how soon I forgive you your Faults.
Now to what Purpose have I Lied my self into her good Graces, when I would be glad to be rid of her?
[Aside.]
Booted and Spurr'd say you? Pray send him up, Sir
James;
I suppose Trusty
Buckle
is come with some Diverting Embassy from your Friend.
Enter
Buckle
in a Riding Dress.
Why in this Equipage?
Ah! Madam.—
Out with it.
Farewel Friends, Parents, and my Country; thou Dear Play-house, and sweet Park, Farewel.
Farewel, why, whither are you going?
My Lord and I am going where they never knew Deceit.
That Land is Invisible,
Buckle.
Ha, ha, ha.
Were my Lord of my Mind your Ladiship should not have had so large a Theme for your Mirth. Your Servant Ladies.
[Exit.]
Well, but what's your Business?
My Lord charg'd me in his Name to take his Everlasting Leave of your Ladiship.
Why, where is he a going pray?
In search of a Country where there is no Women.
Oh dear, why what have the Women done to him pray?
Done to him, Madam? He says they are Proud, Perfidious, Vain, Inconstant, Coquets in
England.
Oh! He'll find they are everywhere the same.
And this is the Cause of his Whimsical Pilgrimage? Ha, ha.
And this proceeds from your ill Usage, Madam; when he left your House,—he flung himself into his Coach with such a Force, that he broke all the Windows,—as they say,—for my Part I was not there;—when he came Home he beat all his Servants round to be Reveng'd.
Was you there,
Buckle?
No, I thank my Stars, when I arriv'd the Expedition was over;—in Haste he Mounted his Chamber,—flung himself upon his Bed,—Bursting out into a Violent Passion,—Oh that ever I should suffer my self to be impos'd upon, said he, by this Coquetish Beauty!
Meaning me,
Buckle,
Ha, ha?
Stay till I have finish'd the Piece, Madam, and your Ladiship shall judge;—she's as Fickle as she's Fair,—she does not use more Art to Gain a Lover, said he, than to deceive him when he is fix'd.—Humph.
[Learing at her.]
Pleasant—and does he call this taking Leave?
A Comical Adieu.
Oh, Madam, I'm not come to the Tragical Part of it yet, starting from his Bed.—
I thought it had been all Farce,—if there be any Thing Heroick in't I'll set my Face and look Grave.
My Relation will require it, Madam, for I am ready to weep at the Repetition: Had you but seen how often he Travast the Room,
[Acting it]
heard how often he stamp'd, what distorted Faces he made, casting up his Eyesthu
, Biting his Thumbs thus.
Ha, ha, ha, you'll make an Admirable Actor,—shall I speak to the Patentees for you?
But pray how did this end?
At last, Madam, quite spent with Rage, he sunk down upon his Elbow, and his Head fell upon his Arm.
What, did he faint away?
Oh, no.
He did not die?
No, Madam, but he fell asleep.
Oh Brave Prince
Pretti
an.
Ha, ha, ha.
After Three Hours Nap he Wak'd—and calling hastily—my Dear
Buckle,
said he, let's to the End of the World; and try to sind a Place where the Sun Shines not here and there at one Time—for 'tis not fit that it should at once look upon Two Persons whose Sentiments are so Different—She no longer regards my Pain, Ungrateful, False, Inhumane, Barbarous Woman.
Foolish, Fond, Believing, Easie Man; there's my Answer—Come, shall we to
Piquet,
my Dear?
Hold, hold, Madam, I han't half done—
Oh! Pray my Dear Lady
Reveller,
let's have it out, 'tis very Diverting—
He call'd me in a feeble Voice;
Buckle,
said he, bring me my little
Serutore—
for I will write to Lady
Reveller
before I part from this Place, never to behold her more—what, don't you Cry, Madam?
Cry—No, no, go on, go on.
'Tis done, Madam—and there's the Letter.
[Gives her a Letter.]
So, this Compleats the Narration.
[Reads.]
Madam,
Since I cannot Live in a Place where there is a Possibility of seeing you without Admiring, I resolve to Fly; I am going for
Flanders
; since you are False I have no Business here—I need not describe the Pain I feel, you are but too well Acquainted with that—therefore I'll chuse Death rather than Return.—
Adieu.
Can any Man in the World write more Tenderly, Madam? Does he not say 'tis Impossible to Love you, and go for
Flanders?
And that he would rather hear of your Death then Return.—
Excellent, Ha, ha.
What, do you Laugh?
Who can forbear?
I think you ought to Die with Grief; I warrant Heaven will punish you all.
[Going.]
But hearkee,
Buckle,
where are you going now?
To tell my Lord in what Manner your Lady receiv'd his Letter; Farewel—now for
Flanders.—
A fair Wind, and a good Voyage to you.
[As he goes out enter Lord
Worthy.
]
My Lord, here? So now may I have my Head Broke for my long Harangue if it comes out.
Oh! Miraculous—my Lord, you have not finish'd your Campaign already, have you? Ha, ha, ha; or has the
French
made Peace at hearing of your Lordship's intended Bravery, and left you no Enemies to Combate?
My worst of Foes are here—here, within my Breast; your Image, Madam.
Oh Dear, my Lord, no more of that Theme, for
Buckle
has given us a Surfeit on't already—even from your Breaking the Glasses of your Coach—to your falling fast Asleep. Ha, ha, ha.
The Glasses of my Coach! What do you mean, Madam—Oh Hell!
[Biting his Thumbs.]
Ruined quite.—Madam, for Heavens sake what does your Ladiship Mean? I Li'd in every Syllable I told you, Madam.
Nay, if your Lordship has a Mind to Act it over agen we will Oblige you for once
—Alpiew
set Chairs—come, Dear
Sago,
sit down—and let the Play begin
—Buckle
knows his Part, and upon Necessity cou'd Act yours too my Lord.
What has this Dog been doing? When he was only to deliver my Letter, to give her new Subject for her Mirth—Death, methinks I hate her,—Oh that I cou'd hold that Mind—what makes you in this Equipage? Ha! Sirrah?
[Aside.]
My Lord, I, I, I, I,
Peace Villain—
[Strikes him.]
Hey—this is Changing the Scene—
Who the Devil would Rack his Brains for these People of Quality, who like no Body's Wit but their own?—
[Aside.]
If the Beating were Invention before, thou hast it now in Reality; if Wars begin I'll Retire. They may agree better alone perhaps.
[Exit.]
Where did you learn this Rudeness, my Lord, to Strike your Servant before me?
When you have depriv'd a Man of his Reason how can you blame his Conduct?
Reason—Egad—there's not Three Drams of Reason between you both—as my Cheek can testifie.
[Aside.]
The Affront was meant to me—nor will I endure these Passions—I thought I had forbid your Visits.
I thought I had Resolv'd against them to.
But Resolutions are of small force of either side.
[Aside.]
Grant me but this One Request and I'll remove this hated Object.
Upon Condition 'tis the last.
It shall—I think it shall at least—Is there a Happy Man for whom I am Despised?
I thought 'twas some such ridiculous Question; I'm of the
Low-Church,
my Lord, consequently hate Confessors; ha, ha, ha.
And Penance to I dare Swear.
[Aside.]
And every thing but Play.
Dare you, the Subject of my Power—you, that Petition Love, Arraign my Pleasures? Now I'm sixt—and will never see you more.
Now wou'd any Body Swear she's in Earnest.
I cannot bear that Curse—see me at your Feet again,
(Kneels)
Oh! you have Tortur'd me enough, take Pity now Dear Tyrant, and let my Suffering end.
I must not be Friends with him, for then I shall have him at my Elbow all Night, and spoil my Luck at the
Basset-Table.
[Aside.]
Either Cringing or Correcting, always in Extreams—I am weary of this Fatigue.
He that wou'd gain my Heart must Learn the Way
Not to Controul, but readily to Obey.
For he that once Pretends my Faults to see,
That Moment makes himself all Faults to me.
[Exit.]
There's the Inside of a Woman.
[Aside.]
Gon—now Curses on me for a Fool—the worst of Fools—a Woman's Fool—
Whose only Pleasure is to feed her Pride,
Fond of her Self, she cares for none beside.
So true Coquets on their numerous Charms Display,
And strive to Conquer on purpose to betray.
ACT. III.
Enter Lord
Worthy
and Sir
James.
Well, my Lord. I have left my Cards in the Hand of a Friend to hear what you have to say to me. Love I'm sure is the Text, therefore Divide and Subdivide as quick as you can.
Coud'st thou Infuse into me thy Temper, Sir
James,
I shou'd have thy Reason too; but I am Born to Love this Fickle, Faithless Fair—what have I not Essay'd to Race her from my Breast? But all in Vain; I must have her, or I must not Live.
Nay, if you are so far gone, my Lord, your Distemper requires an Able Physician—what think you of
Loveley
's bringing a File of Muscqueteers, and carry her away,
Via & Armis?
That Way might give her Person to my Arms, but where's the Heart?
A Trifle in Competition with her Body.
The Heart's the Gem that I prefer.
Say you so my Lord? I'll Engage Three Parts of
Europe
will make that Exchange with you; Ha, ha, ha.
That Maxim wou'd hold with me perhaps in all but her, there I must have both or none; therefore Instruct, me Friend, thou who negligent in Love, keeps always on the Level with the Fair—what Method shou'd I take to Sound her Soul's Design? For tho' her Carriage puts me on the Rack when I behold that Train of Fools about her, yet my Heart will plead in her Excuse, and Calm my Anger Spite of all Efforts.
Humph? I have a Plot, my Lord, if you'll comply with it.
Nothing of Force.
Whate're it be you shall be Witness of it, 'twill either Quench your Flame, or Kindle hers. I only will appear the Guilty; but here's Company, I'll tell you all within.
Enter
Captain
and
Lovely
Drest like a Tar.
I'll expect you.
[Exit.]
Ha, Captain, How sits the Wind between you and your Mistress? Ha?
North and by South, Faith; but here's one Sails full East, and without some unexpected Tornado, from the Old Man's Coast—he makes his Port I warrant ye.
I wish I were at Anchor once.
Why, thou art as arrant a Tar as if thou hadst made an
East-India
Voyage, ha, ha.
Ay, am I not, Sir
James?
But Egad I hope the Old Fellow understands nothing of Navigation; if he does I shall be at a loss for the Terms.
Oh! no matter for Terms—look big, and Bluster for your Country—describe the
Vigo
Business—publick News will furnish you with that, and I'll engage the Success.
Ay, Ay, let me alone, I'll bear up with Sir
Richard,
and thou shalt Board his Pinnace with Consent ne'er fear.—ho, here he comes full Sail.
Enter Sir
Richard.
I'm glad to see you; this is my Kinsman which I told you of, as soon as he Landed; I brought him to Kiss your Hands.
I Honour you, you are welcome.
I thank you Sir,—I'm not for Compliments; 'tis a Land Language I understand it not; Courage, Honesty, and Plain-dealing Truth, is the Learning of our Element; if you like that I am for ye.
[Aside to the Captain.]
The Rogue does it to a Miracle.
He's an improving Spark I find, ha, ha.
Like it, Sir, why 'tis the only Thing I do like, hang Compliments, and Court-Breeding, it serves only to make Men a Prey to one another, to Encourage Cowardice, and Ruin Trade—No, Sir, give me the Man that dares meet Death and Dinner with the same Appetite— one who rather than let in Popery, wou'd let out his Blood; to Maintain such Men I'd pay Double Custom; nay, all my Gain shou'd go for their Support. Gaptain lanch off a round Lie or Two.
[Aside to the Ensign.]
The best Well-wisher to his Country of an
Englishman
I ever heard.
Oh, Sir
Richard,
I wish the Nation were all of your Mind, 'twou'd give the Soldiers and the Sailors Life.
And make us Fight with Heart and Hand; my Kinsman, I'll assure you, fits your Principle to a Hair; he hates the
French
so much he ne'er fails to give them a Broadside where'er he meets them; and has Brought in more Privateers this War than half the Captains in the
Navy;
he was the first Man that Boarded the
French Fleet
at
Vigo—
and in
Gibraltar
Business—the
Gazettes
will inform you of the Name of Captain
Match.
Is this that Captain
Match?
For want of better, Sir.
Sir, I shall be Proud of being known to you.
And I of being Related to you, Sir,—I have a Daughter Young and Handsome, and I'll give her a Portion shall make thee an Admiral Boy; for a Soul like thine is fit only to Command a Navy—what say'st thou, art thou for a Wife?
So, 'tis done, ha, ha, ha.
[Aside.]
A prosperous Gale I'faith.
I don't know, Sir
Richard,
mehap a Woman may not like me; I am Rough and Storm-like in my Temper, unacquainted with the Effeminacy of Co
rts; I was Born upon the Sea, and since I can remember never Liv'd Two Months on Shore; if I Marry my Wife must go Abroad, I promise you that.
Abroad Man? Why she shall go to the
Indies
with the—Oh! such a Son-in-Law—how shall I be Blest in my Posterity? Now do I foresee the Greatness of my Grand-Children; the Sons of this Man shall, in the Age to come, make
France
a Tributary Nation.
Once in an Engagement, Sir, as I was giving Orders to my Men, comes a Ball and took off a Fellow's Head, and struck it full in my Teeth; I wipp'd it up, clapp'd it into a Gun, and shot it at the Enemy again.
Without the least Concern?
Concern, Sir,—ha, ha, ha, if it had been my own Head I would have done the like.
Prodigious Effect of Courage!—Captain I'll fetch my Girl, and be here again in an Instant:—What an Honour 'twill be to have such a Son!
[Exit.]
Ha, ha, ha, ha, you outdo your Master.
Ha, ha, ha, ha, the Old Knight's Transported.
I wish 'twas over, I am all in a Sweat; here he comes agrin.
Enter Sir
Richard
and
Valeria.
I'll hear none of your Excuses,—Captain your Hand,—there take her,—and these Gentlemen shall be Witnesses, if they please, to this Paper, wherein I give her my whole Estate when I die, and Twenty Thousand Pounds down upon the Nail; I care not whether my Boy be worth a Groat,—get me but Grandsons and I'm Rich enough.
Generously said I'faith—much Good may do him with her.
I'll do my Eedeavour, Father, I promise you.
I wish you Joy, Captain, and you, Madam.
That's Impossible;—can I have Joy in a Species so very different from miy own? Oh my Dear
Lovely!—
We were only form'd one for another;—thy Dear Enquiring Soul is more to me—than all these useless Lumps of Animated Clay: Duty compels my Hand,—but my Heart is subject only to my Mind,— the Strength of that they cannot Conquer;—no, with the Resolution of the Great Unparallell'd
Epictetus,—
I here protest my Will shall ne're assent to any but my
Lovely.
Ay, you and your Will may Philosophize as long as you please,—Mistress,—but your Body shall be taught another Doctrine,—it shall so,—Your Mind,—and your Soul, quotha! Why, what a Pox has my Estate to do with them? Ha? 'Tis the Flesh Huswife, that must raise Heirs,—and Supporters of my Name;—and since I knew the getting of the Estate, 'tis fit I shou'd dispose of it,—and therefore no more Excuses, this is your Husband do you see,—take my Word for it.
The outward empty Form of Marriage take
But all beyond I keep for
Lovely
's Sake.
Thus on the Ground for ever fix my Eyes;
All Sights but
Lovely
shall their Balls despise.
Come, Captain,—my Chaplain is within, he shall do the Business this Minute: If I don't use the Authority of a Father, this Baggage will make me lose such a Son-in-law that the City's Wealth cann't purchase me his Fellow.
[Aside.]
Thanks Dear Invention for this Timely Aid.
The Baits gon down, he's by himself betray'd.
Thus still where Arts both True and Honest fail,
Deceitful Wit and Policy prevail.
To Death, or any Thing,—'tis all alike to me.
[Exit cum Valeria.]
Get you in I say,—Hussey, get you in. In my Conscience my Niece has spoil'd her already; but I'll have her Married this Moment; Captain, you have bound me ever to you by this Match, command me and my House for ever.—But shall I not have your Company, Gentlemen, to be Witnesses of this Knot, this joyful Knot?
Yes Faith, Sir
Richard,
I have too much Respect for my Kinsman to leave him—till I see him safe in Harbour; Ill wait on you presently.
I am engag'd in the next Room at Play, I beg your Pardon, Sir
Richard,
for an Hour; I'll bring the whole Company to Congratulate the Bride and Bridegroom.
Bride and Bridegroom? Congratulate me, Man: Methinks I already see my Race Recorded amongst the foremost Heroes of my Nation.—Boys, all Boys,—and all Soldiers.
They shall the Pride of
France
and
Spain
pull down,
And add their
Indies
to our
English
Crown.
[Exit.]
Ha, ha, ha, never was Man so Bigotted before;—how will this end when he discovers the Cheat? Ha, ha, won't you make One with the Ladies, Captain?
I don't care if I do venture a Piece or Two, I'll but dispatch a little Business and meet you at the Table, Sir
James.
[Exit.]
Enter Lady
Lucy.
Ha, Lady
Lucy!
Is your Ladiship reconccil'd to
Basset
yet? Will you give me leave to lose this Purse to you, Madam?
I thank Fortune I neither wish, nor need it, Sir
James;
I presume the next Room is furnish'd with Avarice enough to serve you in that Affair, if it is a Burden to you; or Mrs.
Sago
's ill Luck may give you an Opportunity of returning some of the Obligations you lye under.
Your Sex, Madam, extorts a Duty from ours, and a well-bred Man can no more refuse his Money to a Lady, than his Sword to a Friend.
That Superfluity of good Manners, Sir
James,
would do better Converted into Charity; this Town abounds with Objects—wou'd it not leave a more Glorious Fame behind you to be the Founder of some Pious Work; when all the Poor at mention of your Name shall Bless your Memory; than that Posterity shou'd say you Wasted your Estate on Cards and Women?
Humph, 'tis pity she were not a Man, she Preaches so Emphatically.
[Aside.]
Faith, Madam, you have a very good Notion, but something too Early—when I am Old, I may put your Principles in Practice, but Youth for Pleasure was design'd—
The truest Pleasure must consist in doing Good, which cannot be in Gaming.
Every thing is good in its Kind, Madam; Cards are harmless Bits of Paper, Dice insipid Bones—and Women made for Men.
Right, Sir
James—
but all these things may be perveted—Cards are harmless Bits of Paper in themselves, yet through them what Mischiefs have been Done? What Orphans Wrong'd? What Tradesmen Ruin'd? What Coach and Equipage dismist for them?
But then, how many fine Coaches and Equipages have they set up, Madam?
Is it the more Honourable for that? How many Misses keep Coaches too? Which Arrogance in my Opinion only makes them more Eminently Scandalous—
Oh! those are such, as have a Mind to be Damn'd in this S
ate, Madam—but I hope your Ladiships don't Rank them amongst us Gamesters.
They are Inseparable, Sir
James;
Madam's Grandeur must be Upheld—tho' the Baker and Butcher shut up Shop.
Oh! your Ladiship wrongs us middling Gentlemen there; to Ruin Tradesmen is the Qualities Prerogative only; and none beneath a Lord can pretend to do't with an Honourable Air, ha, ha.
Their Example sways the meaner Sort; I grieve to think that Fortune shou'd Exalt such Vain, such Vitious Souls—whilst Virtue's Cloath'd in Raggs.
Ah! Faith, she'd make but a scurvy Figure at Court, Madam, the States-men and Politcians wou'd Suppress her quickly—but whilst she remains in your Breast she's safe—and makes us all in Love with that Fair Covering.
Oh! Fie, Fi, Sir
James,
you cou'd not Love one that hates your chief Direction.
I shou'd Hate it too, Madam, on some Terms that I cou'd Name.
What wou'd make that Conversion pray?
Your Heart.
I cou'd pay that Price—but dare not Venture upon one so Wild—
[Aside.]
First let me see the Fruit e'er I take a Lease of the Garden, Sir
James.
Oh! Madam, the best Way is to Secure the Ground, and then you may Manure and Cultivate it as you please.
That's a certain Trouble and uncertain Profit. and in this Affair; I prefer the Theory before the Practick But I detain you from the Table, Sir
James—
you are wanted to Tally—your Servant—
[Exit.]
Nay, if you leave me, Madam, the Devil will Tempt me—she's gone, and now cann't I shake off the Thought of Seven Wins, Eight Loses—for the Blood of me—and all this Grave Advice of hers is lost, Faith—tho' I do Love her above the rest of her Sex—she's an exact Model of what all Women ought to be,—and yet your Merry little Coquetish Tits are very Diverting—well, now for
Basset;
let me see what Money have I about—me. Humph! about a Hundred
Gnineas—
half of which will set the Ladies to Cheating—false Parolies in Abundance.
Each Trifling Toy wou'd Tempt in Times of Old,
Now nothing Melts a Womans Heart like Gold.
Some Bargains Drive, other's more Nice then they,
Who'd have you think they Scorn to Kiss for Pay;
To Purchase them you must Lose Deep at Play.
With several Women, several Ways Prevail;
But Gold's a certain Way that cannot Fail.
[Exit.]
The Scence Draws, and Discovers Lady
Reveller,
Mrs.
Sago,
and several Gentlemen and Ladies round a Table at
Basset.
Enter Sir
James.
Oh! Sir
James,
are you come? We want you to Tally for us.
What Luck, Ladies?
I have only won a
Sept & Leva.
And I have lost a
Trante & Leva—
my Ill Fortune has not forsook me yet I see.
I go a
Guinea
upon that Card.
You lose that Card.
I Mace Sir
James
's Card Double.
Seven wins, and Five loses; you have lost it, Madam.
Agen?—sure never was Woman so Unlucky—
Knave wins, and Ten loses; you have Won, Sir
James.
Clean Cards here.
Burn this Book, 'thas an unluckly Air.
(Tears them.)
Bring some more Books.
Enter
Captain.
Oh! Captain—here set a Chair, come, Captain you, shall sit by me—now if we can but Strip this Tarr.
[Aside.]
Withal my Heart, Madam—come, what do you Play Gold?—that's something High tho'—well a
Guinea
upon this Honest Knave of Clubs.
You lose it for a
Guinea
more.
Done, Madam.
The Five Wins, and the Knave loses.
You have lost it, Captain.
The Knave wins, for Two Guineas more, Madam.
Done Sir
James.
Six Wins—Knave Loses.
Oh! the Devil, I'm Fac't, I had rather have lost it all.
Nine wins, Queen loses—you have won,
I'll make a Paroli—I Mace as much more; your Card loses, Sir
James,
for Two Guineas, your's, Captain, loses for a Guineas more.
Four wins, Nine loses—you have Lost, Madam.
Oh! I cou'd Tear my Flesh—as I Tear these Cards—Confusion—I can never win above a wretch'd
Paroli;
for if I push to
Sept & Leva,
tis gone.
[Walks about Disorderly.]
Ace wins, Knave loses.
Sink the Knave, I'll set no more on't.
Fac't agen—what's the meaning of this Ill-luck to Night? Bring me a Book of Hearts, I'll try if they are more Successful, that on the Queen; yours and your Cards loses.
Bring me a fresh Book; bring me another Book; bring me all Diamonds.
Looks upon them One by One, then throws them over her Shoulders.
That can never be lucky, the Name of
Jewels
don't become a Citizen's Wife.
[Aside.]
King wins, the Tray loses.
You have great Luck to Night, Mr.
Sharper.
So I have Sir
James—
I have won
Sonica
every time.
But if he has got the Nack of winning thus he shall sharp no more here, I promise him.
[Aside.]
I Mace that.
Sir
James,
pray will you T
lly.
With all my Heart, Madam.
[Takes the Cards and shuffles them.]
Pray give me the Cards, Sir.
[Takes 'em and shuffles 'em, and gives 'em to him again.]
I set that.
I set Five Guineas upon this Card, Sir
James.
Done Madam,—Five wins,—Six loses.
I Set that.
Five don't go, and Seven loses.
I Mace double.
I Mace that.
Three wins, Six loses.
I Mace, I Mace double, and that—Oh ye malicious Stars!—again.
Eight wins Seven loses.
So, this
Trante & leva
makes some Amends;—Adsbud I hate Cheating,—What's that false Cock made for now? Ha, Madam?
Nay, Mrs.
Sago,
if you begin to play foul.
Rude Brute, to take Notice of the Slight of Hand in our Sex—I protest he wrongs me, Madam,—there's the
Dernier,
Stake,—and I'll set it all,—now Fortune Favour me, or this Moment is my last.
There's the last of Fifty Pounds,—what's the Meaning of this?
Now for my Plot, her Stock is low I perceive.
[Slips a Purse of Gold into the Furbeloes of Lady
Reveller's
Apron.]
I never had such ill Luck,—I must fetch more Money: Ha; from whence comes this? This is the Genteelest Piece of Gallantry, the Action is Sir
Harry
's, I see by his Eyes.
Discovers a Purse in the Furbeloes of her Apron.
Nine wins, Six loses
I am ruin'd and undone for ever; oh, oh, oh, to loose every Card, oh, oh, ho.
[Burst out a Crying.]
So there's one Vessel sprung aleek, and I am almost ashoar—If I go on at this Rate, I shall make but a lame Voyage on't I doubt.
Duce wins, King loses.
I Mace again,—I Mace Double, I mace again;—now the Devil blow my Head off if ever I saw Cards run so; Dam 'em.
[Tears the Cards, and stamps on 'em.]
Fie, Captain, this Concern among the Ladies is indecent.
Dam the Ladies,—mayn't I swear,—or tear my Cards if I please, I'm sure I have paid for them; pray count the Cards, I believe there's a false Tally.
No, they are Right, Sir.
[Sir
James
counts em.]
Not to turn One Card! Oh, oh, oh.
[Stamps up and down.]
Madam, if you play no longer pray don't disturb those that do.—Come, Courage, Captain,—Sir
James
's Gold was very lucky;—who cou'd endure these Men did they not lose their Money?
[Aside.]
Bring another Book here;—that upon Ten,—and I Mace that.—
[Puts down a Card, and turns another.]
King face't, Eight wins, Ten loses.
Fire and Gunpowder.
[Exit.]
Ha, ha, ha, what is the Captain vanish'd in his own Smoak?—Come, I Bett with you, Mr.
Sharper;
your Card loses.
Re-enter
Captain,
pulling in a Stranger, which he had fetch'd out of the Street.
Sir, do you think it possible to lose a
Trante & Leva
a
Quinse-leva,—
and a
Sept-et-leva,—
and never turn once
No sure, 'tis almost Impossible.
Ounds you lie, I did Sir.
[Laying his Hand on his Sword.]
Ah, ah.
[Shrieks and run off.]
What the Devil, had I to do among these Land-Rats?—Zounds, to lose Forty Pounds for nothing, not so much as a Wench for it; Ladies, quotha,—a Man had as good be acquainted with Pick-pockets.
[Exit.]
Ha, ha, ha, the Captain has frighted the Women out of their Wits,—now to keep my Promise with my Lord, tho' the Thing has but an ill Face, no Matter.
They join together to Enslave us Men,
And why not we to Conquer them again.
ACT. V.
Enter Sir
James
on one side, and Lady
Reveller
on the other.
SIR
James,
what have you done with the Rude Porpois?
He is gone to your Uncle's Apartment, Madam, I suppose.—I was in Pain till I knew how your Ladiship did after your Fright.
Really, Sir
James,
the Fellow has put me into the Spleen by his ill Manners. Oh my Stars! That there should be such an unpolished Piece of Humane Race, to be in that Disorder for losing his Money to us Women.—I was apprehensiev he would have beat me, ha, ha.
Ha, ha, your Ladiship must impute his ill Breeding to the Want of Conversation with your Sex; but he is a Man of Honour with his own, I assure you.
I hate out of fashion'd Honour.—Bu
where's the Company, Sir
James
? Shan't we play again?
All disperss'd, Madam.
Come, you and I'll go to Picquet then.
Oh I'm tir'd with Cards, Madam, cann't you think of some other Diversion to pass a chearful Hour?—I cou'd tell you One if you'd give me leave.
Of your own Invention? Then it must be a pleasant One.
Oh the pleasantest one in the World.
What is it I pray?
Love, Love, my Dear Charmer.
[Approaches her.]
Oh Cupid! How came that in your Head?
Nay, 'tis in my Heart, and except you pity me the Wound is Mortal.
Ha, ha, ha, is Sir
James
got into my Lord
Worthy
's Class?—You that could tell me I should not have so large a Theme for my Diversion, were you in his Place, ha, ha, ha; what, and is the Gay, the Airy, the Witty, Inconstant, Sir
James
overtaken? Ha, ha.
Very true, Madam,—you see there is no jesting with Fire.—Will you be kind?
[Gets between her and the Door.]
Kind? What a dismal Sound was there?—I'm afraid your Feaver's high, Sir
James,
ha, ha.
If you think so, Madam, 'tis time to apply cooling Medicines.
[Locks the Door.]
Ha, what Insolence is this? The Door lock'd! What do you mean Sir
James?
Oh 'tis something indecent to Name it, Madam, but I intend to show you.
[Lays hold on her.]
Unhand me, Villain, or I'll cry out.—
Do, and make your self the Jest of Servants, expose your Reputation to their vile Tongues,—which if you please shall remain safe within my Breast; but if with your own Noise you Blast it, here I bid Defiance to all Honour and Secrecy,—and the First Man that enters dies.
[Struggles with her.]
What shall I do? Instruct me Heaven—Monster, is this your Friendship to my Lord? And can you wrong the Woman he Adores.
Ay, but the Woman does not care a Souse for him; and therefore he has no Right above me; I love you as much, and will possess.
Oh! hold—Kill me rather than destroy my Honour—what Devil has Debauch'd your Temper? Or how has my Carriage drawn this Curse upon me? What have I done to give you cause to think you ever shou'd succeed this hated Way.
[Weeps.]
Why this Question, Madam? Can a Lady that loves Play so passionately as you do—that takes as much Pains to draw Men in to lose their Money, as a Town Miss to their Destruction—that Caresses all Sorts of People for your Interest, that divides your time between your Toylet and the
Basset-Table;
(can you, I say, boast of Innate Virtue?—Fie, fie, I am sure you must have guess'd for what I Play'd so Deep—we never part with our Money without Design—or writing Fool upon our Foreheads;—therefore no more of this Resistance, except you would have more Money.
Oh! horrid.
There was Fifty Guineas in that Purse, Madam—here's Fifty more; Money shall be no Dispute.
[Offers her Money.]
[Strikes it Down.]
Perish your Money with your self—you Villain—there, there; take your boasted Favours, which I resolv'd before to have Repaid in
Specie;
Basest of Men I'll have your Life for this Affront—what ho, within there.
Hush—Faith, you'll Raise the House.
[Lays hold on her.]
And 'tis in Vain—you are mine; nor will I quit this Room till I'm Possest.
[Struggles.]
Raise the House, I'll raise the World in my Defence, help, Murther, Murther,—a Rape, a Rape—
Enter Lord
Worthy
from another Room with his Sword Drawn.
Ha! Villain, unhand the Lady—or this Moment is thy last.
Villain, Back my Lord—follow me.
[Exit.]
By the Bright Sun that Shines you shall not go—no, you have sav'd my Virtue, and I will preserve your Life—let the vile Wretch be punish'd by viler Hands—yours shall not be Prophan
d with Blood so Base, if I have any Power—
Shall the Traytor Live?—Tho' your Barbarous Usage does not Merit this from me, yet in Consideration that I Lov'd you once—I will Chastise his Insolence.
Once—Oh! say not once; do you not Love me still? Oh! how pure your Soul appears to me above that Detested Wretch.
[Weeps.]
[Peeping.]
It takes as I cou'd Wish—
Yet how have I been slighted, every Fop preferr'd to me?—Now you Discover what Inconveniency your Gaming has brought you into—this from me wou'd have been unpardonable Advice—now you have prov'd it at your own Expence.
I have, and hate my self for all my Folly—Oh! forgive me—and if still you think me Worthy of your Heart—I here Return you Mine—and will this Hour Sign it with my Hand.
How I Applaud my self for this Contrivance.
Oh! the Transporting Joy, it is the only Happiness I Covet here.
Haste then my Charmer, haste the long'd-for Bliss.
The only Happy Minutes of my Life is this.
[Exit.]
Sir
James.
Ha, ha, ha, ha, how am I Censur'd now for doing this Lady a iece of Service, in forcing that upon her, which only her Vanity and Pride Restrain'd.
So Blushing Maids refuse the Courtd Joy,
Tho' wishing Eys—and pressing Hands Comply,
Till by some Stratagem the Lover Gains,
What she deny'd to all his Amorous Pains.
As Sir
James
is going off, enter Lady
Lucy
meeting him.
Ha, Lady
Lucy!—
Having Succeeded for my Friend, who knows but this may be my Lucky Minute too?—Madam, you come Opportunely to hear.
[Takes her by the Hand.]
Stand off Basest of Men, I have heard too much; coud'st thou Chuse no House but this to Act thy Villanies in? And cou'd'st thou fairly offer Vows to me, when thy Heart, Poison'd with vicious Thoughts, harbour'd this Designs against my Family?
Very fine, Faith, this is like to be my Lucky Minute with a Witness; but Madam—
Offer not at Excuses, 'tis height of Impudence to look me in the Face.
Egad she Loves me—Oh! Happy Rogue—this Concern can proceed from nothing else.
[Aside.]
My Heart till now unus'd to Passion swells with this Affront, wou'd Reproach thee—wou'd Reproach my self, for having Harbour'd one favourable Thought of thee.
Why did you, Madam?—Egad I owe more to her Anger than ever I did to her Morals.
Ha! What have I said?
The only kind Word you ever utter'd.
Yes, Imposture, know to thy Confusion that I did love the, and fancy'd I Discover'd some Seeds of Virtue amongst that Heap of Wickedness; but this last Action has betray'd the Fond Mistake, and show'd thou art all o'er Feign'd.
Give me leave, Madam—
Think not this Confession meant to advance thy Impious Love, but hear my Final Resolution.
Egad I must hear it—I find for there's no stopping her.
From this Moment I'll never—
(Clapping his and before Her Mouth.)
Nay, nay, nay, after Sentence no Criminal is allow'd to Plead; therefore I will be hear'd—not Guilty, not Guilty. Madam, by—if I don't prove that this is all a Stratagem, Contriv'd, Study'd, Design'd, Prosecuted, and put in Execution, to reclaim your Cousin, and give my Lord Possession—may you Finish your Curse, and I Doom'd to Everlasting Absence—Egad I'm out of Breath—
Oh! Cond'st thou prove this?
I can, if by the Proof you'll make me Happy; my Lord shall Convince you.
To him I will refer it, on this Truth your Hopes Depend.
In Vain we strive our Passions to Conceal,
Our very Passions does our Loves Reveal;
When once the Heart, yields to the Tyrants Sway,
The Eyes or Tongue will soon the Flame Betray.
[Exit.]
I was never out at a Critical Minute in my Life.
Enter Mr.
Sago
and Two Bailiffs meeting
Alpiew.
Hearkee, Mistress, is my Wife here?
Truly I shant give my self the Trouble of seeking her for him; now she has lost all her Money—your Wife is a very Indiscreet Person, Sir.
I'm afraid I shall find it so to my Cost.
Come, come, Sir, we cann't wait all Day—the Actions are a Thousand Pound—you shall have time to send for Bail, and what Friends you Please.
A Thousand Pound?
[Enter
Mrs.
Sago.]
Oh! Lambkin have you Spent me a Thousand Pound.
Who, I Pudd? Oh! undone for Ever—
Pud me no Pud,—do you Owe Mr.
Tabby
the
Mercer
Two Hundred Pounds? Ha.
I, I, I, don't know the Sum Dear Pudd—but, but, but I do Owe him something; but I believe he made me Pay too Dear.
Oh! thou Wolfkin instead of Lambkin—for thou hast Devour'd my Substance; and dost thou Owe Mr.
Dollor
the
Goldsmith
Three Hundred Pound? Dost thou? Ha, speak Tygress.
Sure it cann't be quite Three Hundred Pound.
[Sobbing]
Thou
Island
Crocodile thou—and dost thou Owe
Ratsbane
the
Vintner
a Hundred Pound? And were those Hampers of Wine which I receiv'd so Joyfully sent by thy self, to thy self? Ha.
Yes indeed, Puddy—I, I, I, beg your Pardon.
[Sobbing.]
And why didst not thou tell me of them? Thou
Rattle-Snake?—
for they say they have sent a Hundred times for their Money—else I had not been Arrested in my Shop.
Be, be, be, because I, I, I was afraid, Dear Puddy.
[Crying.]
But wer't not thou afraid to Ruin me tho, Dear Pudd. Ah! I need ask the, no more Questions, thou Serpent in Petticoats; did I Doat upon thee for this? Here's a Bill from
Calico
the
Linnen-Draper,
another from
Setwell
the
Jeweller—
from
Coupler
a
Mantua-Maker,
and
Pimpwell
the
Milliner;
a Tribe of Locusts enough to undo a Lord Mayor.
I hope not, truly, Dear, Dearey, I'm sure that's all.
All with a Pox—no Mrs.
Jezebel,
that's. not all; there's Two Hundred Pound Due to my self for Tea, Coffee and Chocolet, which my Journey-man has Confess'd fince your Roguery came out—that you have Imbezell'd, Huswife, you have; so, this comes of your keeping Quality Company—e'en let them keep you now, for I have done with you, you shall come no more within my Doors I promise you.
Oh! Kill me rather; I never did it with Design to part with you, indeed Puddy.
[Sobbing.]
No, no, I believe not whilst I was Worth a Groat. Oh!
Enter Sir
James.
How! Mrs.
Sago
in Tears, and my honest Friend in Ruffins Hands; the meaning of this.
Oh! Sir
James—
my Hypocritical Wife is as much a Wife as any Wife in the City—I'm Arrested here in an Action of a Thousand Pound, that she has taken up Goods for, and Gam'd away; get out of my sight, get out of my sight, I say.
Indeed and indeed.
[Sobbing.]
Dear Puddy but I cannot—no, here will I Hang forever on this Neck.
[Flies about his Neck.]
Help, Murder, Murder, why, why, what will you Collar me?
Right Woman, I must try to make up this Breach—Oh! Mr.
Sago,
you are unkind—'tis pure Love that thus Transports your Wife, and not such Base Designs as you Complain of.
Yes, yes, and she run me in Debt out of pure Love to no doubt.
So it was Pudd.
VVhat was it? (Ha Mistress) out of love to me that you have undone me? Thou, thou, thou, I don't know what to call thee bad enough.
You won't hear your Keckey out, Dear Pudd, it was out of Love for Play,—but for Lo, Lo, Love to you, Dear Pudd; if you'll forgive me I'll ne'er play again.
(Crying and Sobbing all the while.)
Nay, now, Sir, you must forgive her.
What, forgive her that would send me to Jayl?
No, no, there's no Danger of that, I'll Bail you, Mr.
Sago,
and try to Compound those Debts.—You know me Officers.
Very well, Sir
James,
your Worship's Word is sufficient.
There's your Fees, then leave here your Prisoner, I'll see him forth coming.
With all our Hearts; your Servant, Sir.
[Exit.]
Ah thou wicked Woman, how I have doated on those Eyes! How often have I kneel'd to kiss that Hand! Ha, is not this true, Keckey?
Yes, Deary, I, I, I, I do confess it.
Did ever I refuse to grant wbatever thou ask'd me?
No, never, Pudd.—
[Weeps still.]
Might'st thou not have eaten Gold, as the Saying is? Ha?—Oh Keecky, Keecky!
[Ready to weep.]
Leave Crying, and wheedle him, Madam, wheedle him.
I do confess it, and cann't you forgive your Keckey then that you have been so Tender of, that you so often confest your Heart has jump'd up to your Motuh when you have heard my Beauty prais'd.
So it has I profess, Sir
James,—
I begin to melt,—I do; I am a good-natur'd Fool, that's the Truth on't: But if I should sorgive you, what would you do to make me Amends? For that Fair Face, if I turn you out of Doors, will quickly be a cheaper Drug than any in my Shop.
And not maintain her half so well;—promise largely, Madam.
[To Mrs.
Sago.
]
I'll Love you for ever, Deary.
But you'll Jigg to
Covent-Garden
again.
No, indeed I won't come within the Air on't, but take up with City Acquaintance, rail at the Court, and go Twice a Week with Mrs.
Outside
to
Pin-makers-hall.
That would rejoice my Heart.
[Ready to weep]
See, if the good Man is not ready to weep; your last Promise has conquer'd.—Come, come, Buss and be Friends, and end the Matter.—I'm glad the Quarrel is made up, or I had had her upon my Hands.
(Aside.)
Pudd, don't you hear Sir
James,
Pudd?
I can hold no longer,—yes, I do hear him,—come then to the Arms of thy n'own Pudd.
(Runs into one another's Arms.)
Now all's well; and for your Comfort Lady
Reveller
is by this Time married to my Lord
Worthy,
and there will be no more Gaming I assure you in that House.
Joys upon Joys. Now if these Debts were but Accommodated, I should be happier than ever; I should indeed Kickky.
Leave that to me, Mr.
Sago,
I have won Part of your Wife's Money, and will that Way restore it you.
I thank you, good Sir
James,
I believe you are the First Gamester that ever Refunded.
Generously done,—Fortune has brought me. off this Time, and I'll never trust her more.
But see the Bride and Bridegroom.
Enter Lord
Worthy
and Lady
Reveller,
Lady
Lucy, Buckle, Alpiew.
This Match which I have now been Witness to, is what I long have wish'd, your Course of Life must of Necessity be chang'd.
Ha, Sir
James
here!—Oh if you love me, my Lord let us avoid that Brute, you must not meet him.
Oh, there's no Danger, Madam.—My Lord, I wish you Joy with all my Heart; we only quarrell'd to make you Friends, Madam, ha, ha, ha.
What, am I trick'd into a Marriage then?
Not against your Will, I hope.
No, I forgive you; tho' had I been aware of it, it should have cost you a little more Pains.
I wish I could return thy Plot, and make this Lady thine, Sir
James.
Then I should be paid with Interest, my Lord.
My Fault is Consideration you know, I must think a little longer on't.
And my whole Study shall be to improve those Thoughts to my own Advantage.
I wish your Ladiship Joy, and hope I shall keep my Kickey to my self now.
With all my Heart Mr.
Sago,
she has had ill Luck of late, which I am sorry for.
My Lord
Worthy
will confine your Ladiship from Play as well as I, and my Injunction will be more casie when I have your Example.
Nay 'tis Time to throw up the Cards when the Games out.
Enter Sir
Richard,
Captain
Hearty, Lovely
and
Valeria.
Well, Sir
James,
the Danger's over, we have doubled the Cape, and my Kinsman is Sailing directly to the Port.
A Boon Voyage.
'Tis done, and my Heart is at Ease.—Did you ever see such a perverse Baggage, look in his Face I say, and thank your Stars, for their best influences gave yon this Husband.
Will not
Valeria
look upon me? She us'd to be more Kind when we have sish'd for Eals in Vinegar.
My
Lovely,
is it thee? And has natural Sympathy forborn to inform my Sense thus long?
[Flies to him]
How! how! This
Lovely?
What does it
the Ensign I have so carefully avoided!
Yes, Sir, the same; I hope you may be brought to like a Land Soldier as well as a Seaman.
And, Captain, have you done this?
Yes, Faith, she was too whimsical for our Element; her hard Words might have Conjur'd up a Storm for ought I know—so I have set her ashore.
What, my Uncle deceiv'd with his Stock of Wisdom? Ha, ha, ha.
Here's such a Coupling, Mrs.
Alpiew,
han't you a Month's Mind?
Not to you I assure you.
I was but in Jest, Child, say nay when you're ask'd.
The principal Part of this Plot was mine, Sir
Richard.
Wou'd 'twas in my Power to hang you for't.
[Aside.
And I have no Reason to doubt you should repent it, he is a Gentleman, tho' a younger Brother, he loves your Daughter, and she him, which has the best Face of Happiness in a married State; you like a Man of Honour, and he has as much as any one, that I assure you, Sir
Richard.
Well, since what's past is past Recal I had as good be satisfied as not, therefore take her, and bless ye together.
So now each Man's Wish is Crown'd, but mine with double Joy.
Well said, Sir
Richard,
let's have a Bowl of Punch, and Drink to the Bridegroom's good Voyage to Night,—steady, steady, ha, ha.
I'll take a Glass with you Captain,—I reckon my self a Bridegroom too.
I doubt Kickey won't find him such.
[Aside.]
Well,—poor Keckky's bound to good Behaviour, or she had lost quite her Puddy's Favour.
Shall I for this repine at Fortune?—No.
I'm glad at Heart that I'm forgiven so.
Some Neighbours Wives have but too lately shown,
When Spouse had left 'em all their Friends were flown.
Then all you Wives that wou'd avoid my Fate.
Remain contented with your present State
FINIS.