The Works of Aphra Behn, Volume II

by Aphra Behn

THE FEIGN’D CURTEZANS; OR, A NIGHT’S INTRIGUE.

ARGUMENT.

Marcella and Cornelia, nieces to Count Morosini and sisters to Julio, who is contracted to Laura Lucretia, a lady of quality, sister of Count Octavio, in order to avoid Marcella’s marriage with this nobleman, secretly leave Viterbo where they live, and accompanied only by their attendants, Petro and Philippa, come to Rome, and there pass for courtezans under the names of Euphemia and Silvianetta. Their beauty wins them great renown in the gay world, and Sir Harry Fillamour, who loves Marcella, and Frank Galliard, two English travellers, are keenly attracted by this reputation. Sir Harry, however, is anxious for matrimony, Galliard for an intrigue. Marcella in her turn is already enamoured of Fillamour whom she has met at Viterbo. Morosini and Octavio follow the fugitives to Rome, whilst Laura Lucretia, who loves Galliard, disguises herself in male attire and takes a house on the Corso next door to the supposed courtezans. Fillamour and Galliard encounter the two ladies in the gardens of the Villa Medici, and Fillamour takes Marcella for a courtezan, whilst Galliard engages with Cornelia. Octavio passing with his followers spies and attacks his rival. A general mêlée ensues. Julio, who has not seen his family for seven years, next appears, having taken Cornelia for a cyprian and followed her from St. Peter’s. Marcella, in boy’s attire, then gives Fillamour a letter from herself, signed under her own name, making an appointment for that night; but at the same time Galliard, claiming a former promise, drags his friend off to visit Euphemia. The intrigue is complicated by the ridiculous amours of two foolish travellers, Sir Signal Buffoon and Mr. Tickletext, a puritan divine, his tutor. These, unknown to each other, make assignations with the two bona robas by means of Petro, who dupes them thoroughly by his clever tricks, and pockets their money. Whilst Galliard and Sir Harry are serenading the ladies, Octavio, Julio and their bravos attack them. After the scuffle Laura Lucretia coming from her house leads in Julio, mistaking him for Galliard, and he her for Silvianetta. Next Sir Harry and Galliard arrive in safety at the sisters’ house, and Marcella, as a courtezan, tempts her lover, who, however, refuses to yield and leaves her, to her secret joy. Tickletext has been placed by Petro in bed to await, as he supposes, Silvianetta, when Galliard in error entering the room in the dark gropes his way to the bed and finding a man, closes with him. The tutor escapes, and Cornelia coming in in the course of her wooing by Galliard informs him she is not really a courtezan as he supposed. In anger her gallant departs. Whilst he is telling Sir Harry this tale Cornelia, dressed as a page, follows him and delivers Fillamour a challenge as from Marcella’s brother, Julio, summoning him to the Piazza di Spagna. Julio himself, newly come from Laura Lucretia, meeting Galliard relates to him how he passed the night with Silvianetta, which confirms the opinion the Englishman had already formed of her treachery and deceit. Laura Lucretia overhears and sends her maid to bring her Galliard; but whilst he is with her, Cornelia, who has jealously followed, feigning to be Julio’s page, gives the amorous dame a letter as from her betrothed. The trick fails, Cornelia is laughed at as a saucy lad, repulsed and obliged to retire. Sir Harry is then met by Marcella dressed as a man and calling herself Julio. Julio himself happens to be at the Piazza di Spagna and he interrupts the quarrel. Octavio and Morosini speedily join him, as Crapine has tracked the runaways to their lodging. All these hurry into the courtezans’ house, where they find Fillamour and Galliard. Mutual explanations follow. Octavio nobly renounces Marcella in favour of Fillamour who claims her hand, whilst Cornelia gives herself to Galliard in sober wedlock. Tickletext and Sir Signal are then discovered to be concealed in the room, and their mutual frailties exposed. It is promised that the money of which Petro has choused them shall be restored, and everything is forgiven, since “‘twas but one night’s intrigue, in which all were a little faulty.”

SOURCE.

The plot of The Feign’d Curfezans; or, A Night’s Intrigue is wholly original. It is one of those bustling pieces, quick with complicated intrigue, of the Spanish comedias de capa y espada school, which Mrs. Behn loved, and which none could present more happily or wittily than she. To quote the Biographia Dramatics, ‘the play contains a vast deal of business and intrigue; the contrivance of the two ladies to obtain their differently disposed lovers, both by the same means, viz. by assuming the characters of courtezans, being productive of great variety.’ Some incidents, indeed, recall The Rover; and the accident of Tickletext being discovered in bed by Galliard is similar to that when Carlo comes upon Fetherfool in the same circumstance, Rover II, Act iv, iv. On the whole, however, The Feign’d Curtezans is the better play, and may not unjustly claim to be, if not Mrs. Behn’s masterpiece (a title it disputes with The Rover, Part I, and The Lucky Chance), at least one of the very best and wittiest of her sparkling comedies.

THEATRICAL HISTORY.

The Feign’d Curtezans; or, A Night’s Intrigue was produced at the Duke’s Theatre, Dorset Garden, in 1679. The cast was a star one, and Downes remarks that it was ‘well acted’. but though favourably received it does not, for some unaccountable reason, seem to have met with the triumphant success it certainly deserved. It continued to be played from time to time, and there was a notable revival on 8 August, 1716, at Lincoln’s Inn Fields. Galliard was acted by J. Leigh; Sir Harry, Smith; Sir Signal, Bullock; Tickletext, Griffin; Pedro, Spiller; Julio, Bull jun. Cornelia, Mrs. Cross; Marcella, Mrs. Thurmond; Laura Lucretia, Mrs. Spiller. It was performed three times that season, but soon after disappears from the repertory.

TO MRS. ELLEN GUIN.

Madam,

’.is no wonder that hitherto I followed not the good example of the believing Poets, since less faith and zeal then you alone can inspire, had wanted power to have reduc’t me to the true worship: Your permission, Madam, has inlightened me, and I with shame look back on my past Ignorance, which suffered me not to pay an Adoration long since, where there was so very much due, yet even now though secure in my opinion, I make this Sacrifice with infinite fear and trembling, well knowing that so Excellent and perfect a Creature as your self differs only from the Divine powers in this; the Offerings made to you ought to be worthy of you, whilst they accept the will alone; and how Madam, would your Altars be loaded, if like heaven you gave permission to all that had a will and desire to approach ‘em who now at distance can only wish and admire, which all mankinde agree to do; as if Madam, you alone had the pattent from heaven to ingross all hearts and even those distant slaves whom you conquer with your fame, pay an equall tribute to those that have the blessing of being wounded by your Eyes, and boast the happiness of beholding you dayly; insomuch that succeeding ages who shall with joy survey your History shall Envy us who lived in this, and saw those charming wonders which they can only reade of, and whom we ought in charity to pity, since all the Pictures, pens or pencills can draw, will give ‘em but a faint Idea of what we have the honour to see in such absolute Perfection; they can only guess She was infinitely fair, witty, and deserving, but to what Vast degrees in all, they can only Judge who liv’d to Gaze and Listen; for besides Madam, all the Charms and attractions and powers of your Sex, you have Beauties peculiar to your self, an eternal sweetness, youth and ayr, which never dwelt in any face but yours, of which not one unimitable Grace could be ever borrow’d, or assumed, though with never so much industry, to adorn another, they cannot steal a look or smile from you to inhance their own beauties price, but all the world will know it yours; so natural and so fitted are all your Charms and Excellencies to one another, so intirely design’d and created to make up in you alone the most perfect lovely thing in the world; you never appear but you glad the hearts of all that have the happy fortune to see you, as if you were made on purpose to put the whole world into good Humour, whenever you look abroad, and when you speak, men crowd to listen with that awfull reverence as to Holy Oracles or Divine Prophesies, and bears away the precious words to tell at home to all the attentive family the Graceful things you utter’d and cry, but oh she spoke with such an Ayr, so gay, that half the beauty’s lost in the repetition. ‘Tis this that ought to make your Sex vain enough to despise the malicious world that will allow a woman no wit, and bless our selves for living in an Age that can produce so wondrous an argument as your undeniable self, to shame those boasting talkers who are Judges of nothing but faults.

But how much in vain Madam, I endeavour to tell you the sence of all mankinde with mine, since to the utmost Limits of the Universe your mighty Conquests are made known: And who can doubt the Power of that Illustrious Beauty, the Charms of that tongue, and the greatness of that minde, who has subdu’d the most powerfull and Glorious Monarch of the world: And so well you bear the honours you were born for, with a greatness so unaffected, an affability so easie, an Humour so soft, so far from Pride or Vanity, that the most Envious & most disaffected can finde no cause or reason to wish you less, Nor can Heaven give you more, who has exprest a particular care of you every way, and above all in bestowing on the world and you, two noble Branches, who have all the greatness and sweetness of their Royal and beautiful stock; and who give us too a hopeful Prospect of what their future Braveries will perform, when they shall shoot up and spread themselves to that degree, that all the lesser world may finde repose beneath their shades; and whom you have permitted to wear those glorious Titles which you your self Generously neglected, well knowing with the noble Poet; ‘tis better far to merit Titles then to wear ‘em.

Can you then blame my Ambition, Madam, that lays this at your feet, and begs a Sanctuary where all pay so great a Veneration? ‘twas Dedicated yours before it had a being, and overbusy to render it worthy of the Honour, made it less grateful; and Poetry like Lovers often fares the worse by taking too much pains to please; but under so Gracious an Influence my tender Lawrells may thrive, till they become fit Wreaths to offer to the Rays that improve their Growth: which Madam, I humbly implore, you still permit her ever to do, who is,

Madam,
Your most Humble,
and most Obedient Servant,
A. Behn.

THE FEIGN’D CURTEZANS; or, A Night’s Intrigue.

PROLOGUE,

Spoken by Mrs. Currer.

The Devil take this cursed plotting Age,
’. has ruin’d all our Plots upon the Stage;
Suspicions, New Elections, Jealousies,
Fresh Informations, New Discoveries,
Do so employ the busy fearful Town,
Our honest Calling here is useless grown:
Each Fool turns Politician now, and wears
A formal Face, and talks of State-affairs;
Makes Acts, Decrees, and a new Model draws
For Regulation both of Church and Laws;
Tires out his empty Noddle to invent
What Rule and Method’s best in Government:
But Wit, as if ‘twere Jesuitical,
Is an Abomination to ye all.
To what a wretched pass will poor Plays come?
This must be damn’d, the Plot is laid in Rome;
’.is hard—yet—
Not one amongst ye all I’ll undertake,
E’er thought that we should suffer for Religion’s sake:
Who wou’d have thought that wou’d have been th’ occasion
Of any contest in our hopeful Nation?
For my own Principles, faith let me tell ye,
I’m still of the Religion of my Cully;
And till these dangerous times they’d none to fix on,
But now are something in mere Contradiction,
And piously pretend these are not days,
For keeping Mistresses, and seeing Plays:
Who says this Age a Reformation wants,
When Betty Currer’s Lovers all turns Saints?
In vain, alas, I flatter, swear, and vow,
You’ll scarce do any thing for Charity now:
Yet I am handsom still, still young and mad,
Can wheedle, lye, dissemble, jilt—egad,
As well and artfully as e’er I did;
Yet not one Conquest can I gain or hope,
No Prentice, not a Foreman of a Shop,
So that I want extremely new Supplies;
Of my last Coxcomb, faith, these were the Prize;
And by the tatter’d Ensigns you may know,
These Spoils were of a Victory long ago:
Who wou’d have thought such hellish Times to have seen,
When I shou’d be neglected at Eighteen?
That Youth and Beauty shou’d be quite undone,
A Pox upon the Whore of Babylon.

DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

ITALIANS.

Morosini, an old Count, Uncle to Julio. Mr. Norris. Julio, his Nephew, a young Count, contracted to Laura Lucretia. Mr. Crosby. Octavio a young Count, contracted to Marcella, deformed, revengeful. Mr. Gillo. Crapine, Morosini’s Man. Petro, supposed Pimp to the two Curtezans. Mr. Leigh. Silvio, Page to Laura Lucretia. Antonio, an Attendant to Laura Lucretia. Page to Julio.

ENGLISH.

Sir Harry Fillamour, in love with _Marcella. Mr. Smith.
Mr. Galliard, in love with Cornelia. Mr. Betterton.
Sir Signal Buffoon, a Fool. Mr. Nokes.
Mr. Tickletext, his Governour. Mr. Underbill.
Jack, Sir Signal’s Man.
Page to Fillamour.

WOMEN.

Laura Lucretia_, a young Lady of Quality, contracted
to Julio, in love with Galliard, and
Sister to Octavio. Mrs. Lee.
Marcella, Mrs. Currer.
and
Cornelia, Mrs. Barry.
Sisters to Julio, and Nieces to Morosini,
and pass for Curtezans by the names of
Euphemia and Silvianetta.
Philippa, their Woman. Mrs. Norris.
Sabina, Confident to Laura Lucretia. Mrs. Seymour.

Pages, Musick, Footmen, and Bravos.

SCENE, Rome.

ACT I.

SCENE I. A Street.

Enter Laura Lucretia, and Silvio richly drest; Antonio attending, coming all in haste.

Sil. Madam, you need not make such haste away, the Stranger that follow’d us from St. Peter’s Church pursues us no longer, and we have now lost sight of him: Lord, who wou’d have thought the approach of a handsome Cavalier should have possest Donna Laura Lucretia with fear?

Lau. I do not fear, my Silvio, but I wou’d have this new Habitation which I have design’d for Love, known to none but him to whom I’ve destin’d my Heart:—ah, wou’d he knew the Conquest he has made, [Aside.] Nor went I this Evening to Church with any other Devotion, but that which warms my heart for my young English Cavalier, whom I hop’d to have seen there; and I must find some way to let him know my Passion, which is too high for Souls like mine to hide.

Sil. Madam, the Cavalier’s in view again, and hot in the pursuit.

Lau. Let’s haste away then; and, Silvio, do you lag behind, ‘twill give him an opportunity of enquiring, whilst I get out of sight.—Be sure you conceal my Name and Quality, and tell him—any thing but truth—tell him I am La Silvianetta, the young Roman Curtezan, or what you please to hide me from his knowledge.

[Exeunt Lau. and Ant.

Enter Julio and Page in pursuit.

Jul. Boy, fall you into discourse with that Page, and learn his Lady’s Name—whilst I pursue her farther. [Ex. Jul.

[Page salutes Silvio, who returns it; they go out as talking to each other.

Enter Sir Harry Fillamour and Galliard.

Fil. He follows her close, whoe’er they be: I see this trade of Love goes forward still.

Gal. And will whilst there’s difference in Sexes. But, Harry, the Women, the delicate Women I was speaking of?

Fil. Prithee tell me no more of thy fine Women, Frank; thou hast not been in Rome above a Month, and thou’ast been a dozen times in love, as thou call’s! it; to me there is no pleasure like Constancy.

Gal. Constancy! and wou’dst thou have me one of those dull Lovers, who believe it their Duty to love a Woman ‘till her Hair and Eyes change Colour, for fear of the scandalous Name of an Inconstant? No, my Passion, like great Victors, hates the lazy stay; but having vanquisht, prepares for new Conquests.

Fil. Which you gain as they do Towns by Fire, lose ‘em even in the taking; thou wo’t grow penitent, and weary of these dangerous Follys.

Gal. But I am yet too young for both: Let old Age and Infirmity bring Repentance,—there’s her feeble Province, and even then too we find no plague like being deprived of dear Woman-kind.

Fil. I hate playing about a Flame that will consume me.

Gal. Away with your antiquated Notions, and let’s once hear sense from thee: Examine but the whole World, Harry, and thou wilt find a beautiful Woman the Desire of the noblest, and the Reward of the bravest.

Fil. And the common Prize of Coxcombs: Times are alter’d now, Frank; why else shou’d the Virtuous be cornuted, the Coward be caress’d, the Villain roll with six, and the Fool lie with her Ladyship?

Gal. Mere accident, Sir; and the kindness of Fortune: but a pretty witty young Creature, such as this Silvianetta and Euphemia, is certainly the greatest Blessing this wicked World can afford us.

Fil. I believe the lawful enjoyment of such a Woman, and honest too, wou’d be a Blessing.

Gal. Lawful Enjoyment! Prithee what’s lawful Enjoyment, but to enjoy ’.m according to the generous indulgent Law of Nature; enjoy ‘em as we do Meat, Drink, Air, and Light, and all the rest of her common Blessings?— Therefore prithee, dear Knight, let me govern thee but for a Day, and I will shew thee such a Signiora, such a Beauty, another manner of piece than your so admired Viterboan, Donna Marcella, of whom you boast so much.

Fil. And yet this rare piece is but a Curtezan, in coarse plain English a very Whore,—who filthily exposes all her Beauties to him can give her most, not love her best.

Gal. Why, faith, to thy comfort be it spoken, she does distribute her Charms at that easy rate.

Fil. Oh, the vast distance between an innocent Passion, and a poor faithless Lust!

Gal. Innocent Passion at Rome! Oh, ‘tis not to be nam’d but in some Northern Climate: to be an Anchoret here, is to be an Epicure in Greenland; impossibilities, Harry. Sure thou hast been advising with Sir Signal Buffoon’s Governour, that formal piece of Nonsense and Hypocrisy.

Fil. No, faith, I brought the humour along with me to Rome; and for your Governour I have not seen him yet, though he lodge in this same House with us, and you promis’d to bring me acquainted with him long since.

Gal. I’ll do’t this very minute.

Fil. No, I’m oblig’d not to engage my self this Evening, because I expect the arrival of Count Julio, whose last Letters assured me it would be to night.

Gal. Julio! What, the young Italian Count you made me acquainted with last Summer in England?

Fil. The same, the Ambassador’s Nephew, a good Youth, and one I esteem.

Enter Julio.

Jul. I hope my Page will bring intelligence who this Beauty is.

Fil. Hah, Julio! Welcome, dear Friend. [Embraces him.

Jul. Sir Harry Fillamour! how glad am I to meet you in a Country, where I have power to repay you all those Friendships I receiv’d when I was a stranger in yours. Monsieur Galllard too! nay, then I’m sure to want no diversion whilst I stay in Rome. [Salutes Galliard.

Fil. But, pray, what made you leave England so soon?

Jul. E’en the great business of Mankind, Matrimony. I have an Uncle here, who has provided me Fetters, which I must put on, he says they will be easy; I lik’d the Character of my Mistress well enough, a brave masculine Lady, a Roman of Quality, Donna Laura Lucretia; till as luck wou’d have it, at my arrival this Evening, stepping into St. Peter’s Church, I saw a Woman there that fir’d my heart, and whom I followed to her house: but meeting none that cou’d inform me who she was, I left my Page to make the discovery, whilst I with equal impatience came to look you out; whose sight I prefer even to a new Amour, resolving not to visit home, to which I have been a stranger this seven years, till I had kist your hands, and gained your promise to accompany me to Viterbo.

Fil. Viterbo! is that your place of Residence?

Jul. Yes, ‘tis a pretty Town, and many noble Familys inhabit there, stor’d too with Beauties, at least ‘twas wont to be: have you not seen it?

Gal. Yes, and a Beauty there too, lately, for his repose, who has made him sigh and look so like an Ass ever since he came to Rome.

Jul. I am glad you have so powerful an Argument, to invite you back; I know she must be rare and of quality, that cou’d engage your heart.

Fil. She’s both; it most unluckily fell out, that I was recommended by a Person of Quality in England to a Nobleman at Viterbo, who being a Man of a Temper frank and gallant, received me with less Ceremony than is usual in Italy. I had the freedom of the House, one of the finest Villa’s belonging to Viterbo, and the pleasure to see and converse at a distance with one of the loveliest Persons in the World, a Niece of this old Count’s.

Jul. Very well, and cou’d you see her but at a distance, Sir?

Fil. Oh, no, ‘twas all I durst desire, or she durst give; I came too late to hope; she being before promised in Marriage to a more happy man, the Consummation of which waits only the arrival of a Brother of hers, who is now at the Court of France, and every day expected.

Enter Petro like a Barber.

Gal. Hah! Signior Petro.

Fil. Come, Sir, we’ll take a turn i’th’ Gallery, for this Pimp never appears, but Francis desires to be in private.

Gal. Thou wrong’st an honest ingenious Fellow, to call him Pimp.

Pet. Ah, Signior, what his Worship pleases!

Gal. That thou art I’ll be sworn, or what any man’s Worship pleases; for let me tell ye, Harry, he is capacitated to oblige in any quality: for, Sir, he’s your brokering Jew, your Fencing, Dancing, and Civility-Master, your Linguist, your Antiquary, your Bravo, your Pathick, Your Whore, your Pimp; and a thousand more Excellencies he has to supply The necessities of the wanting Stranger.—Well, Sirrah—what design now Upon Sir Signal and his wise Governour?—What do you represent now?

Pet. A Barber, Sir.

Gal. And why a Barber, good Signior Petro?

Pet. Oh, Sir, the sooner to take the heights of their Judgments; it gives handsome opportunities to commend their Faces; for if they are pleas’d with flattery, the certain sign of a Fool’s to be most tickled when most commended, I conclude ‘em the fitter for my purpose; they already put great confidence in me, will have no Masters but of my recommending, all which I supply my self, by the help of my several disguises; by which, and my industry, I doubt not but to pick up a good honest painful livelihood, by cheating these two Reverend Coxcombs.

Gal. How the Devil got’st thou this credit with ‘em?

Pet. O, easily, Sir, as Knaves get Estates, or Fools Employments.

Fil. I hope amongst all your good qualities, you forgot not your more natural one of pimping.

Pet. No, I assure you, Sir; I have told Sir Signal Buffoon, that no Man lives here without his Inamorata: which very word has so fir’d him, that he’s resolved to have an Inamorata whate’er it cost him; and, as in all things else, I have in that too promised my assistance.

Gal. If you assist him no better than you have done me, he may stay long enough for his Inamorata.

Pet. Why, faith, Sir, I lie at my young Lady night and day; but she is so loth to part with that same Maiden-head of hers yet—but to morrow night, Sir, there’s hopes.—

Gal. To morrow night; Oh, ‘tis an Age in Love! Desire knows no time but the present, ‘tis now I wish, and now I wou’d enjoy: a new Day ought to bring a new Desire.

Pet. Alas, Sir, I’m but an humble Bravo.

Gal. Yes, thou’rt a Pimp, yet want’st the Art to procure a longing
Lover the Woman he adores, though but a common Curtezan—Oh, confound her
Maiden-head—she understands her Trade too well, to have that badge of
Innocence.

Pet. I offered her her Price, Sir.

Gal. Double it, give any thing, for that’s the best receipt I ever found to soften Womens hearts.

Pet. Well, Sir, she will be this Evening in the Garden of Medices Villa, there you may get an opportunity to advance your Interest—I must step and trim Mr. Tickletext, and then am at your service. [Exit Petro.

Jul. What is this Knight and his Governour, who have the blessed Fortune to be manag’d by this Squire?

Fil. Certain Fools Galliard makes use of when he has a mind to laugh, and whom I never thought worth a visit since I came to Rome: and he’s like to profit much by his Travels, who keeps company with all the English, especially the Fops.

Gal. Faith, Sir, I came not abroad to return with the formality of a Judge; and these are such antidotes against Melancholy as wou’d make thee fond of fooling.—Our Knight’s Father is even the first Gentleman of his House, a Fellow, who having the good fortune to be much a Fool and Knave, had the attendant blessing of getting an Estate of some eight thousand a year, with this Coxcomb to inherit it; who (to aggrandize the Name and Family of the Buffoons) was made a Knight; but to refine throughout, and make a compleat Fop, was sent abroad under the Government of one Mr. Tickletext, his zealous Father’s Chaplain, as errant a blockhead as a man wou’d wish to hear preach; the Father wisely foreseeing the eminent danger that young Travellers are in of being perverted to Popery.

Jul. ‘Twas well considered.

Gal. But for the young Spark, there is no description can reach him; ’.is only to be done by himself; let it suffice, ‘tis a pert, saucy, conceited Animal, whom you shall just now go see and admire, for he lodges in the house with us.

Jul. With all my heart, I never long’d more for a new acquaintance.

Fil. And in all probability shall sooner desire to be rid on’t.— Allons.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II. Draws off to a room in Tickletext’s lodging, and discovers Mr. Tickletext a trimming, his Hair under a Cap, a Cloth before him: Petro snaps his fingers, takes away the Bason, and goes to wiping his face.

Tickletext and Petro.

Pet. Ah che Bella! Bella! I swear by these sparkling Eyes and these soft plump dimpled Cheeks, there’s not a Signiora in all Rome, cou’d she behold ‘em, were able to stand their Temptations; and for La Silvianetta, my life on’t, she’s your own.

Tick. Teze, teze, speak softly; but, honest Barberacho, do I, do I indeed look plump, and young, and fresh and—hah!

Pet. Ay, Sir, as the rosy Morn, young as old Time in his Infancy, and plump as the pale-fac’d Moon.

Tick. He—Why, this Travelling must needs improve a Man—Why, how admirably well-spoken your very Barbers are here—[Aside.]—But, Barberacho, did the young Gentlewoman say she lik’d me? did she, Rogue? did she?

Pet. A doated on you Signior, doated on you.

Tick. Why, and that’s strange now, in the Autumn of my Age too, when Nature began to be impertinent, as a Man may say, that a young Lady shou’d fall in love with me—[Aside.] Why, Barberacho, I do not conceive any great matter of Sin only in visiting a Lady that loves a man, hah.

Pet. Sin, Sir! ‘tis a frequent thing now-a-days in Persons of your Complexion.

Tick. Especially here at Rome too, where ‘tis no scandal.

Pet. Ah, Signior, where the Ladies are privileg’d and Fornication licensed.

Tick. Right! and when ‘tis licens’d, ‘tis lawful; and when ‘tis lawful, it can be no Sin: besides, Barberacho, I may chance to turn her, who knows?

Pet. Turn her, Signior, alas, any way, which way you please.

Tick. He, he, he! There thou wert knavish, I doubt—but I mean convert her—nothing else I profess, Barberacho.

Pet. True, Signior, true, she’s a Lady of an easy nature, and an indifferent Argument well handled will do’t—ha—here’s your head of Hair—here’s your natural [combing out his Hair.] Frize! And such an Air it gives the Face!—So, Signior—Now you have the utmost my Art can do. [Takes away the Cloth, and bows.

Tick. Well, Signior,—and where’s your Looking-glass?

Pet. My Looking-glass!

Tick. Yes, Signior, your Looking-glass! an English Barber wou’d as soon have forgotten to have snapt his fingers, made his leg, or taken his Money, as have neglected his Looking-glass.

Pet. Ay, Signior, in your Country the Laity have so little Honesty, they are not to be trusted with the taking off your Beard unless you see’t done:—but here’s a Glass, Sir. [Gives him the Glass.

[Tick. sets himself and smirks in the Glass, Pet. standing behind him, making horns and grimaces, which Tick. sees in the Glass, gravely rises, turns towards Petro.

Tick. Why, how now, Barberacho, what monstrous Faces are you making there?

Pet. All, my Belly, my Belly, Signior: ah, this Wind-Cholick! this Hypocondriack does so torment me! ah—

Tick. Alas, poor Knave; certo, I thought thou hadst been somewhat uncivil with me, I profess I did.

Pet. Who, I, Sir, uncivil?—I abuse my Patrone!—I that have almost made my self a Pimp to serve you?

Tick. Teze, teze, honest Barberacho! no, no, no, all’s well, all’s well:—but hark ye—you will be discreet and secret in this business now, and above all things conceal the knowledge of this Gentlewoman from Sir Signal and Mr. Galliard.

Pet. The Rack, Signior, the Rack shall not extort it.

Tick. Hold thy Hand—there’s somewhat for thee, [Gives him Money.] but shall I, Rogue—shall I see her to night?—

Pet. To night, Sir, meet me in the Piazza D’Hispagnia, about ten a Clock,—I’ll meet you there,—but ‘tis fit, Signior—that I should provide a Collation,—’tis the custom here, Sir.—

Tick. Well, well, what will it come to?—here’s an Angel.—

Pet. Why, Sir, ‘twill come to—about—for you wou’d do’t handsomely— some twenty Crowns.—

Tick. How, man, twenty Crowns!

Pet. Ay, Signior, thereabouts.

Tick. Twenty Crowns!—Why, ‘tis a Sum, a Portion, a Revenue.

Pet. Alas, Signior, ‘tis nothing with her,—she’ll look it out in an hour,—ah, such an Eye, so sparkling, with an amorous Twire—Then, Sir— she’ll kiss it out in a moment,—such a Lip, so red, so round, so plump, so soft, and so—

Tick. Why, has she, has she, Sirrah—hah—here, here, prithee take money, here, and make no words on’t—go, go your way, go—But to entertain Sir Signal with other matter, pray send his Masters to him; if thou canst help him to Masters, and me to Mistresses, thou shalt be the good Genius of us both: but see where he comes—

Enter Sir Signal.

Sir Sig. Hah! Signior Illustrissimo Barberacho, let me hug thee, my little Miphistophiloucho—de ye see here, how fine your Brokering Jew has made me, Signior Rabbi Manaseth—Ben—Nebiton, and so forth; hah— view me round— [Turns round.

Tick. I profess ‘tis as fit as if it had been made for you.

Sir Sig. Made for me—Why, Sir, he swore to me by the old Law, that ’.was never worn but once, and that but by one High-German Prince—I have forgot his name—for the Devil can never remember a fart these dam’d Hogan-Mogan Titles.

Tick. No matter, Sir.

Sir Sig. Ay, but I shou’d be loth to be in any man’s Clothes, were he never so high a German Prince—except I knew his name though.

Tick. Sir, I hold his name unnecessary to be remembred, so long as ’.was a princely Penniworth.—Barberacho, get you gone, and send the Masters. [Ex. Petro.

Sir Sig. Why, how now, Governour? how now, Signior Tickletext! prithee how camest thou so transmogrified, ha? why, thou look’st like any new-fledg’d Cupid.

Tick. Do I? away, you flatter; do I?

Sir Sig. As I hope to breathe, your Face shines through your pouder’d
Hairs, like you know what on a Barn-door in a frosty morning.

Tick. What a filthy comparison there for a man of my Coat?

Sir Sig. What, angry—Corpo di me, I meant no harm,—Come, shall’s to a Bonaroba, where thou shalt part with thy Pusilage, and that of thy Beard together?

Tick. How mean you, Sir, a Curtezan, and a Romish Curtezan?

Sir Sig. Now my Tutor’s up, ha, ha, ha—and ever is when one names a
Whore; be pacify’d, Man, be pacify’d, I know thou hat’st ‘em worse than
Beads or Holy-water.

Tick. Away, you are such another Knight—but leave this naughty discourse, and prepare for your Fencing and Civility-Masters, who are coming.

Sir Sig. Ay, when, Governour, when? Oh, how I long for my
Civility-Master, that I may learn to out-complement all the dull
Knights and Squires in Kent, with a Servitore Hulichimo—No
Signiora Bellissima, base le Mane de vos Signiora scusa mia
Illustrissimo, caspeto de Bacco, and so I’ll run on, hah, Governour,
hah! won’t this be pure?

Tick. Notably ingenious, I profess.

Sir Sig. Well, I’ll send my Staffiera for him incontinente.—he, Jack—a—Cazo, what a damned English name is Jack? let me see—I will call him Giovanni—which is as much as to say John!—he Giovanni.

Enter Jack.

Tick. Sir, by your favour, his English Protestant Name is John Pepper, and I’ll call him by ne’er a Popish Name in Christendom.

Sir Sig. I’ll call my own man, Sir, by what name I please, Sir; and let me tell you, Reverend Mr. Tickletext, I scorn to be served by any man whose name has not an Acho or an Oucho, or some Italiano at the end on’t—therefore Giovanni Peperacho is the name by which you shall be distinguish’d and dignify’d hereafter.

Tick. Sir Signal, Sir Signal, let me tell you, that to call a man out of his name is unwarrantable, for Peter is call’d Peter, and John John; and I’ll not see the poor Fellow wrong’d of his Name for ne’er a Giovanni in Rome.

Sir Sig. Sir, I tell you that one Italian Name is worth any two English Names in Europe, and I’ll be judg’d by my Civility-Master.

Tick. Who shall end the dispute if he be of my opinion?

Sir Sig. Multo voluntiero, which is as much as to say, with all my heart.

Jack. But, Sir, my Grandmother wou’d never own me, if I should change the cursen Name she gave me with her own hands, an’t please your Worship.

Sir Sig. He Bestia! I’ll have no more of your Worship, Sirrah, that old English Sir Reverence, let me have you call me Signior Illustrissimo or Patrona Mea_—or—

Tick. Ay, that I like well enough now:—but hold, sure this is one of your Masters.

Enter Petro drest like a French Fencing-Master.

Pet. Signior Barberacho has sent me to teach you de Art of Fencing.

Sir Sig. Illustrissimo Signior Monsieur, I am the Person who am to learn.

Tick. Stay, Sir, stay—let me ask him some few questions first: for, Sir, I have play’d at Back-Sword, and cou’d have handled ye a weapon as well as any Man of my time in the University.

Sir Sig. Say you so, Mr. Tickletext? and faith, you shall have a bout with him.

[Tick. gravely goes to Petro.

Tick. Hum—hum—Mr. Monsieur—pray what are the Guards that you like best?

Pet. Monsieur, eder de Quart or de Terse, dey be both French and Italian: den for your Parades, Degagements, your Advancements, your Eloynements and Retierments, dey be de same.

Tick. Cart and Horse, what new-found inventions and words have we here?—Sir, I wou’d know, whether you like St. George’s Guard or not.

Pet. Alons—Monsieur, Mettez vous en Guard! take de Flurette.

Sir Sig. Nay, faith and troth, Governor, thou shalt have a Rubbers with him.

[Tick, smiling refuses.

Tick. Nay, certo, Sir Signal,—and yet you shall prevail;—well, Sir, come your ways. [Takes the Flurette.

Pet. Set your right foot forward, turn up your hand so—dat be de Quart—now turn it dus—and dat be de Terse.

Tick. Hocus Pocus, Hicksius Doxius—here be de Cart, and here be de Horse—why, what’s all this for; hah, Sir—and where’s your Guard all this while?

Sir Sig. Ay, Sir, where’s your Guard, Sir, as my Governour says, Sir, hah?

Tick. Come, come, Sir, I must instruct you, I see; Come your ways, Sir.—

Pet. Attende, attende une peu—trust de right hand and de right leg forward together.—

Tick. I marry, Sir, that’s a good one indeed: What shall become of my Head then, Sir? what Guard have I left for that, good Mr. Monsieur, hah?

Pet. Ah, Morbleu, is not dis for every ting?

Tick. No, marry, is not it, Sir; St. George’s Guard is best for the Head whilst you live—as thus, Sir.

Pet. Dat, Sir, ha, ha—dat be de Guard for de Back-Sword.

Tick. Back-sword, Sir, yes, Back-sword, what shou’d it be else?

Pet. And dis be de Single-Rapier.

Tick. Single-Rapier with a Vengeance, there’s a weapon for a Gentleman indeed; is all this stir about Single-Rapier?

Pet. Single-Rapier! What wou’d you have for de Gentlemen, de Cudgel for de Gentlemen?

Tick. No, Sir, but I wou’d have it for de Rascally Frenchman, who comes to abuse Persons of Quality with paltry Single-Rapier.— Single-Rapier! Come, Sir, come—put your self in your Cart and your Horse as you call it, and I’ll shew you the difference.

[Undresses himself till he appears in a ridiculous Posture.

Pet. Ah, Monsieur, me sall run you two three times through de Body, and den you break a me head, what care I for dat?—Pox on his ignorance. [Aside.

Tick. Oh, ho, Sir, do your worst, Sir, do your worst, Sir.

[They put themselves into several Guards, and Tick. beats Pet. about the Stage.—Enter Gall. Fill. and Jul.

Pet. Ah, Monsieur, Monsieur, will you kill a me?

Tick. Ah, Monsieur, where be your Carts now, and your Horse, Mr. Monsieur, hah?—and your Single-Rapier, Mr. Monsieur, hah?—

Gal. Why, how now, Mr. Tickletext, what mortal Wars are these? Ajax and Ulysses contending for Achilles his Armour?

Pet. If I be not reveng’d on him, hang me. [Aside

Sir Sig. Ay, why, who the Devil wou’d have taken my Governor for so tall a man of hands? but Corpo de me, Mr. Galliard, I have not seen his Fellow.

Tick. Ah, Sir, time was, I wou’d have play’d ye a Match at Cudgels with e’er a Sophister in the College, but verily I have forgotten it; but here’s an Impudent Frenchman that wou’d have past Single-Rapier upon us.

Gal. How, nay a my word, then he deserv’d to be chastis’d for’t—but now all’s at Peace again; pray know my Kinsman, Sir Harry Fillamour.

Sir Sig. Yo baco les manos, Signior Illustrissimo Cavaliero,—and yours, Signiors, who are Multo bien Venito.

Tick. Oh Lord, Sir, you take me, Sir, in such a posture, Sir, as I protest I have not been in this many years.

[Dressing himself whilst he talks.

Fil. Exercise is good for health, Sir.

Gal. Sir Signal, you are grown a perfect Italian: Well, Mr. Tickletext, you will carry him home a most accomplish’t Gentleman I see.

Tick. Hum, verily, Sir, though I say it, for a Man that never travell’d before, I think I have done reasonably well—I’ll tell you, Sir—it was by my directions and advice that he brought over with him,—two English Knives, a thousand of English Pins, four pair of Jersey Stockings, and as many pair of Buckskin Gloves.

Sir Sig. Ay, Sir, for good Gloves you know are very scarce Commodities in this Country.

Jul. Here, Sir, at Rome, as you say, above all other places.

Tick. Certo, mere hedging Gloves, Sir, and the clouterlest Seams.

Fil. Very right, Sir,—and now he talks of Rome,—Pray, Sir, give me your opinion of the Place—Are there not noble Buildings here, rare Statues, and admirable Fountains?

Tick. Your Buildings are pretty Buildings, but not comparable to our University Buildings; your Fountains, I confess, are, pretty Springs,— and your Statues reasonably well carv’d—but, Sir, they are so ancient they are of no value: then your Churches are the worst that ever I saw— that ever I saw.

Gal. How, Sir, the Churches, why I thought Rome had been famous throughout all Europe for fine Churches.

Fil. What think you of St. Peter’s Church, Sir? Is it not a glorious Structure?

Tick. St. Peter’s Church, Sir, you may as well call it St. Peter’s Hall, Sir; it has neither Pew, Pulpit, Desk, Steeple, nor Ring of Bells; and call you this a Church, Sir? No, Sir, I’ll say that for little England, and a fig for’t, for Churches, easy Pulpits, [Sir Sig. speaks, And sleeping Pews,] they are as well ordered as any Churches in Christendom: and finer Rings of Bells, Sir, I am sure were never heard.

Jul. Oh, Sir, there’s much in what you say.

Fil. But then, Sir, your rich Altars, and excellent Pictures of the greatest Masters of the World, your delicate Musick and Voices, make some amends for the other wants.

Tick. How, Sir! tell me of your rich Altars, your Guegaws and Trinkets, and Popish Fopperies, with a deal of Sing-song—when I say, give me, Sir, five hundred close Changes rung by a set of good Ringers, and I’ll not exchange ‘em for all the Anthems in Europe: and for the Pictures, Sir, they are Superstition, idolatrous, and flat Popery.

Fil. I’ll convince you of that Error, that persuades you harmless Pictures are idolatrous.

Tick. How, Sir, how, Sir, convince me! talk to me of being convinc’d, and that in favour of Popery! No, Sir, by your favour I shall not be convinc’d: convinc’d, quoth a!—no, Sir, fare you well, an you be for convincing: come away, Sir Signal, fare you well, Sir, fare you well:— convinc’d! [Goes out.

Sir Sig. Ha, ha, ha, so now is my Governour gone in a Fustian-fume: well, he is ever thus when one talks of Whoring and Religion: but come, Sir, walk in, and I’ll undertake, my Tutor shall beg your Pardon, and renounce his English ill-bred Opinion; nay, his English Churches too—all but his own Vicaridge.

Fil. I have better diversion, Sir, I thank you—come, Julio, are you for a Walk in the Garden of Medices Villa, ‘tis hard by?—

Jul. I’ll wait on you— [Ex. Fil. and Julio.

Sir Sig. How in the Garden of Medices Villa?—but, harkye, Galliard, will the Ladies be there, the Curtezans, the Bona Roba’s, the Inamorata’s, and the Bell Ingrato’s, hah?

Gal. Oh, doubtless, Sir. [Exit. Gall.

Sir Sig. I’ll e’en bring my Governour thither to beg his Pardon, on purpose to get an opportunity to see the fine Women; it may be I may get a sight of my new Mistress, Donna Silvianetta, whom Petro is to bring me acquainted with.

[Exeunt.

ACT II.

SCENE I. The Gardens of the Villa Medici.

Enter Morosini and Octavio.

Oct. By Heaven, I will not eat, nor sleep, nor pray for any thing but swift and sure Revenge, till I have found Marcella, that false deceiving Beauty, or her Lover, my hated Rival Fillamour; who, wanton in the Arms of the fair Fugitive, laughs at my shameful easiness, and cries, these Joys were never meant for tame Octavio.

Enter Crapine.

Mar. How now, Crapine! What, no News, no News of my Nieces yet, Marcella and Cornelia?

Crap. None, Sir.

Oct. That’s wondrous strange, Rome’s a place of that general Intelligence, methinks thou might’st have News of such trivial things as Women, amongst the Cardinals Pages: I’ll undertake to learn the Religion de stato, and present juncture of all affairs in Italy, of a common Curtezan.

Mar. Sirrah, Sirrah, let it be your care to examine all the Nunneries, for my own part not a Petticoat shall escape me.

Oct. My task shall be for Fillamour. [Aside.

Mor. I’ll only make a visit to your Sister Donna Laura Lucretia, and deliver her a Letter from my Nephew Julio, and return to you presently.— [Going out, is staid by Octavio.

Oct. Stay, Sir, defer your visit to my Sister Laura, she is not yet to know of my being in Town; ‘tis therefore I have taken a Lodging in an obscure street, and am resolv’d never to be my self again till I’ve redeem’d my Honour. Come, Sir, let’s walk—

Enter to them, as they are going out, Marcella and Cornelia, drest like Curtezans, Philippa, and Attendance.

Mor. Stay, stay, what Women are these?

Oct. Whores, Sir, and so ‘tis ten to one are all the kind; only these differ from the rest in this, they generously own their trade of Sin, which others deal by stealth in; they are Curtezans. [Exeunt.

Mar. The Evening’s soft and calm, as happy Lovers Thoughts; And here are Groves where the kind meeting Trees Will hide us from the amorous gazing Croud.

Cor. What should we do there, sigh till our wandering Breath
Has rais’d a gentle Gale amongst the Boughs;
To whose dull melancholy Musick we,
Laid on a Bed of Moss, and new-fallen Leaves,
Will read the dismal tale of Echo’s Love!
—No, I can make better use of famous Ovid.
[Snatches a little Book from her.
And prithee what a pox have we to do with Trees,
Flowers, Fountains, or naked Statues?

Mar. But, prithee, mad Cornelia, let’s be grave and wise, at least enough to think a little.

Cor. On what? your English Cavalier Fillamour, of whom you tell so many dull stories of his making Love! Oh, how I hate a civil whining Coxcomb!

Mar. And so do I, I’ll therefore think of him no more.

Cor. Good Lord! what a damnable wicked thing is a Virgin grown up to Woman.

Mar. What, art thou such a Fool to think I love this Fillamour?

Cor. It may be not at Rome, but at Viterbo, where Men are scarce, you did; and did you follow him to Rome, to tell him you cou’d love no more?

Mar. A too forward Maid, Cornelia, hurts her own Fame, and that of all her Sex.

Cor. Her Sex! a pretty consideration, by my Youth; an Oath I shall not violate this dozen years: my Sex shou’d excuse me, if to preserve their Fame they expected I should ruin my own Quiet; in chasing an ill-favour’d Husband, such as Octavio, before a young handsome Lover, such as you say Fillamour is.

Mar. I wou’d fain persuade my self to be of thy mind,—but the World, Cornelia—

Cor. Hang the malicious World—

Mar. And there’s such Charms in Wealth and Honour too.

Cor. None half so powerful as Love, in my opinion; ‘slife, Sister, thou art beautiful, and hast a Fortune too, which before I wou’d lay out upon so shameful a purchase as such a Bedfellow for life as Octavio, I wou’d turn errant keeping Curtezan, and buy my better Fortune.

Mar. That Word too startles me.

Cor. What, Curtezan! why, ‘tis a noble Title, and has more Votaries than Religion; there’s no Merchandize like ours, that of Love, my Sister:—and can you be frighted with the Vizor, which you your self put on?

Mar. ‘Twas the only Disguise that cou’d secure us from the search of my Uncle and Octavio. Our Brother Julio is by this too arriv’d, and I know they’ll all be diligent,—and some Honour I was content to sacrifice to my eternal Repose.

Cor. Spoke like my Sister! a little impertinent Honour, we may chance to lose, ‘tis true; but our down-right Honesty I perceive you are resolv’d we shall maintain through all the dangers of Love and Gallantry; though to say truth, I find enough to do, to defend my Heart against some of those Members that nightly serenade us, and daily show themselves before our Window, gay as young Bridegrooms, and as full of expectation.

Mar. But is’t not wondrous, that amongst all these Crouds we should not once see Fillamour? I thought the Charms of a fair young Curtezan might have oblig’d him to some Curiosity at least.

Cor. Ay! and an English Cavalier too, a Nation so fond of all new Faces.

Mar. Heaven, if I should never see him, and I frequent all publick Places to meet him! or if he be gone from Rome, if he have forgot me, or some other Beauty have employ’d his Thoughts!

Cor. Why; if all these if’s and or’s come to pass, we have no more to do than to advance in this same glorious Profession, of which now we only seem to be—in which, to give it its due, there are a thousand Satisfactions to be found, more than in a dull virtuous Life: Oh, the world of Dark-Lanthorn-Men we should have! the Serenades, the Songs, the Sighs, the Vows, the Presents, the Quarrels, and all for a Look or a Smile, which you have been hitherto so covetous of, that Petro swears our Lovers begin to suspect us for some honest Jilts; which by some is accounted much the leuder scandal of the two:—therefore I think, faith, we must e’en be kind a little to redeem our Reputations.

Mar. However we may railly, certainly there’s nothing so hard to Woman, as to expose her self to villainous Man.

Cor. Faith, Sister, if ‘twere but as easy to satisfy the nice scruples of Religion and Honour, I should find no great Difficulty in the rest— Besides, another Argument I have, our Mony’s all gone, and without a Miracle can hold out no longer honestly.

Mar. Then we must sell our Jewels.

Cor. When they are gone, what Jewel will you part with next?

Mar. Then we must—

Cor. What, go home to Viterbo, ask the old Gentleman pardon, and be receiv’d to Grace again, you to the Embraces of the amiable Octavio, and I to St. Teresa’s, to whistle through a Grate like a Bird in a Cage,—for I shall have little heart to sing.—But come, let’s leave This sad talk, here’s Men—let’s walk and gain new Conquest, I love it dearly— [Walk down the Garden.

Enter Gall. Fill, and Jul. see the Women.

Gal. Women! and by their garb for our purpose too—they’re Curtezans, let’s follow ‘em.

Fil. What shall we get by gazing but Disquiet? If they are fair and honest, we look, and perhaps may sigh in vain; if beautiful and loose, they are not worth regarding.

Gal. Dear notional Knight, leave your satirical Fopperies, and be at least good-humour’d, and let’s follow them.

Jul. I’ll leave you in the Pursuit, and take this Opportunity to write my Uncle word of my Arrival; and wait on you here anon.

Fil. Prithee do so: hah, who’s that with such an Equipage?

[Exit Julio, Fil. and Gal. going after. Marcella and Cor. meet just entring, Laura with Silvio, Antonio, and her Equipage, drest like a Man.

Gal. Pox, let the Tradesmen ask, who cringe for such gay Customers, and follow us the Women!

[Exit Fil. and Gal. down the Scene, Lau. looking after ‘em.

Lau. ‘Tis he, my Cavalier, my Conqueror: Antonio, let the Coaches wait,—and stand at distance all: Now, Silvio, on thy Life forget my Sex and Quality, forget my useless name of Laura Lucretia, and call me Count of—

Sil. What, Madam?

Lau. Madam! ah, foolish Boy, thy feminine Courage will betray us all:— but—call me Count—Sans Coeur.—And tell me, Silvio, how is it I appear? How dost thou like my Shape—my Face and Dress? My Mien and Equipage, may I not pass for Man? Looks it en Prince and Masculine?

Sil. Now as I live, you look all over what you wish, and such as will beget a Reverence and Envy in the Men, and Passion in the Women. But what’s the Cause of all this Transformation?

Lau. Love! Love! dull Boy, cou’dst thou not guess ‘twas Love? that dear Englese I must enjoy, my Silvio.

Sil. What, he that adores the fair young Curtezan?

Lau. That very he; my Window joins to hers, and ‘twas with Charms.
Which he’ad prepar’d for her, he took this Heart,
Which met the welcome Arrows in their flight,
And sav’d her from their Dangers.
Oft I’ve return’d the Vows he’as made to her,
And sent him pleas’d away;
When through the errors of the Night, and distance,
He has mistook me for that happy Wanton,
And gave me Language of so soft a Power,
As ne’er was breath’d in vain to listning Maids.

Sil. But with Permission, Madam, how does this Change of Petticoat for Breeches, and shifting Houses too, advance that Love?

Lau. This Habit, besides many Opportunities ‘twill give me of getting into his acquaintance, secures me too from being known by any of my Relations in Rome: then I have changed my House for one so near to that of Silvianetta’s, and so like it too, that even you and I have oft mistook the entrance: by which means Love, Fortune or Chance, may with my Industry contrive some kind Mistake that may make me happier than the rest of Womankind.

Sil. But what shall be reserv’d then for Count Julio, whose last Letters promise his Arrival within a Day or two, and whom you’re then to marry?

Lau. Reserv’d for him! a Wife! a Wife, my Silvio, That unconcern’d domestick Necessary, Who rarely brings a Heart, or takes it soon away.—

Sil. But then your Brother, Count Octavio, do you not fear his Jealousy?

Lau. Octavio! Oh, Nature has set his Soul and mine at odds, And I can know no Fear but where I love.

Sil. And then that thing which Ladies call their Honour.—

Lau. Honour, that hated Idol, even by those
That set it up to worship! No,
I have a Soul, my Boy, and that’s all Love;
And I’ll the Talent which Heaven lent improve.

[Going out, meets Marcella and Cornelia follow’d by Gal. and Fil.

Sil. Here be the Curtezans, my Lord.

Lau. Hah, Silvianetta and Euphemia! pursu’d too by my Cavalier! I’ll round the Garden, and mix my self amongst ‘em. [Exit with Silvio and her Train.

Mar. Prithee, Sister, let’s retire into the Grove, to avoid the Pursuit of these Cavaliers.

Cor. Not I, by these killing Eyes! I’ll stand my ground were there a thousand, all arm’d with conquering Beauty.

Mar. Hah—now on my Conscience yonder’s Fillamour.

Cor. Hah! Fillamour!

Mar. My Courage fails me at the sight of him—I must retire.

Cor. And I’ll to my Art of Love.

[Mar. retires, and leans against a Tree,
Cor. walks about reading.

Gal. ‘Tis she, ‘tis Silvianetta: Prithee advance, that thou mayst behold her, and renounce all honest Women; since in that one young Sinner there are Charms that wou’d excuse even to thee all frailty.

Fil. The Forms of Angels cou’d not reconcile me To Women of her Trade.

Gal. This is too happy an Opportunity, to be lost in convincing thy Singularity,—

[Gal. goes bowing by the side of Cornelia. Fil.
walks about in the Scene.

—If Creatures so fair and charming as your self, had any need of Prayer,
I shou’d believe by your profound Attention you were at your Evening’s
Devotion.

Cor. That you may find your Mistake in the opinion of my Charms, pray believe I am so, and ought not to be interrupted.

Gal. I hope a Man may have leave to make his Devotions by you, at least without Danger or Offence.

Cor. I know not that, I have reason to fear your Devotion may be ominous; like a blazing Star, it comes but seldom,—but ever threatens mischief—Pray Heaven, I share not in the Calamity.

Gal. Why, I confess, Madam, my Fit of Zeal does not take me often; but when it does, ‘tis very harmless and wondrous hearty.—

Cor. You may begin then, I shall not be so wicked as to disturb you Orisons.

Gal. Wou’d I cou’d be well assur’d of that, for mine’s Devotion of great Necessity, and the Blessing I pray for infinitely concerns me; therefore in Christian Charity keep down your Eyes, and do not ruin a young Man’s good Intentions, unless they wou’d agree to send kind Looks, and save me the expence of Prayer.

Cor. Which wou’d be better laid out, you think, upon some other Blessing.

Gal. Why, faith, ‘tis good to have a little Bank upon occasion, though I hope I shall have no great need here-after,—if the charming Silvianetta be but kind, ‘tis all I ask of Heaven.

Cor. You’re very well acquainted with my Name, I find.

Gal. Your Name! ‘tis all I have to live on!
Like chearful Birds, ‘tis the first Tune I sing,
To welcome in the Day:
The Groves repeat it, and the Fountains purle it,
And every pretty Sound that fills my Ear.
Turns all to Silvianetta.

[Fil. looks awhile on Marcella.

Fil. Galliard, look there—look on that lovely Woman; ‘tis Marcella, the beautiful Marcella.

[Offers to run to her, Gal. holds him.

Gal. Hold! Marcella! where?

Fil. That Lady there; didst ever see her equal?

Gal. Why, faith, as you say, Harry, that Lady is beautiful—and, make us thankful—kind: why, ‘tis Euphemia, Sir, the very Curtezan I wou’d have shew’d you.—

Fil. Forbear, I am not fit for Mirth.

Gal. Nor I in Humour to make you merry; I tell ye—yonder Woman—is a Curtezan.

Fil. Do not profane, nor rob Heaven of a Saint.

Gal. Nor you rob Mankind of such a Blessing, by giving it to Heaven before its time.—I tell thee ‘tis a Whore, a fine desirable expensive Whore.

Fil. By Heaven, it cannot be! I’ll speak to her, and call her my Marcella, and undeceive thy leud Opinion. [Offers to go, he holds him.

Gal. Do, salute her in good Company for an honest Woman—do, and spoil her Markets:—’twill be a pretty civil spiteful Compliment, and no doubt well taken;—come, I’ll convince ye, Sir. [Goes and pulls Philippa. —Harkye, thou kind Help meet for Man—thou gentle Child of Night—what is the Price of a Night or two ot Pleasure with yonder Lady—Euphemia, I mean, that Roman Curtezan—

Fil. Oh, Heavens! a Curtezan!

Phil. Sure you’re a great Stranger in Rome, that cannot tell her Price.

Gal. I am so; name it, prithee, here’s a young English Purchaser— Come forward, Man, and cheapen for your self— [Pulls him.

Phil. Oh, spare your pains, she wants no Customers.— [Flings away.

Fil. No, no, it cannot, must not be Marcella;
She has too much Divinity about her,
Not to defend her from all Imputation,
Scandal wou’d die to hear her Name pronounc’d.

Phil. Believe me, Madam, he knows you not; I over-heard all he said to that Cavalier, and find he’s much in love.

Mar. Not know me, and in love! punish him, Heaven, for his Falshood: but I’ll contribute to deceive him on, and ruin him with Perjury.

Fil. I am not yet convinc’d, I’ll try her farther. [Goes to her bowing.]—But, Madam, is that heavenly Beauty purchasable? I’ll pay a Heart, rich with such Wounds and Flames—

Gal. Not forgetting the Money too, good Lad, or your Wounds and Flames will be of little Use. [Gal. goes to Cornelia.

Mar. He tells you Truth, Sir, we are not like the Ladies of your Country, who tire out their Men with loving upon the square, Heart for Heart, till it becomes as dull as Matrimony: to Women of our Profession there’s no Rhetorick like ready Money, nor Billet-deux like Bills of Exchange.

Fil. Oh! that Heaven shou’d make two Persons so resembling, and yet such different Souls. [Looks on her.—’Sdeath, how she darts me through with every Look! But if she speak, she heals the Wound again.

Enter Octavio, with Followers.

Oct. Hah, my Rival Fillamour here! fall on—draw, Sir,—and say, I gave you one Advantage more, and fought thee fairly.

[Draws on Fil. who fights him out; the Ladies run off: Gal. falls on the Followers, with whom whilst he is engaged, enters Julio, _draws and assists him, and Laura at the same time on the other side. Enter Petro drest like a Civility-Master; Sir Signal and Tickletext: Sir_ Signal climbs a Tree, Tick runs his Head into a Bush, and lies on his Hands and Knees. Pet. assists_ Gal. and fights out the Bravoes. Pet. re-enters.

Lau. Hah, my Cavalier engag’d amongst the Slaves!

Pet. My Lady’s Lovers! and set upon by Octavio! We must be diligent in our Affairs; Sir Signal, where are ye? Signior Tickletext.—I hope they have not miscarried in the fray.

Sir Sig. Oh, vos Servitor, vos Signiora; miscarried! no, the Fool has Wit enough to keep out of harm’s way. [Comes down from the Tree.

Pet. Oh, very discreetly done, Signior.— [Sees Tick, in a bush, pulls him out by the heels.

Sir Sig. Why, how now, Governour, what, afraid of Swords?

Tick. No, Sir, I am not afraid of Swords, but I am afraid of Danger.

Enter Gal. embracing Laura; after ‘em, Julio and Fil. Fil. looks about.

Gal. This Bravery, Sir, was wondrous.

Lau. ‘Twas only Justice, Sir, you being opprest with odds.

Fil. She’s gone, she’s gone in Triumph with my Soul.

Jul. What was the matter, Sir? how came this Mischief?

Fil. Oh, easily, Sir; I did but look, and infinitely loved.

Jul. And therefore were you drawn upon, or was it some old Pique?

Fil. I know not, Sir, Oh, tell me not of Quarrels. The Woman, Friend, the Woman has undone me.

Gal. Oh, a blessed Hearing! I’m glad of the Reformation: Sir, you were so squeamish, forsooth, that a Whore wou’d not down with ye; no, ‘twou’d spoil your Reputation.—

Fil. A Whore! wou’d I cou’d be convinc’d she were so; ‘twou’d call my Virtue home, and make me Man again.

Gal. Thou ly’st—thou’rt as weak a Brother as the best of us, and believe me, Harry, these sort of Damsels are like Witches, if they once get hold of a Man, he’s their own till the Charm be ended; you guess what that is, Sir?

Fil. Oh, Frank, hadst thou then felt how tenderly she prest my Hand in hers, as if she wou’d have kept it there for ever, it wou’d have made thee mad, stark mad in Love!—and nothing but Marcella cou’d have charm’d me. [Aside.

Gal. Ay, Gad, I’ll warrant thee,—well, thou shalt this Night enjoy her.

Fil. How?

Gal. How! why, faith, Harry, e’en the old way, I know no other. Why, thou shalt lie with her, Man; come, let’s to her.

Fil. Away, let’s follow her instantly. [Going out is stopt by Sir Signal_.

Enter Sir Sig. Tick. Petro.

Sir Sig. Signior, I have brought Mr. Tickletext to beg your Pardon—
Sir.

Fil. I’ve other business, Sir. [Goes out.

Gal. Come, let’s follow him; and you, my generous Cavalier, must give me leave to beg the Honour of your Friendship.

Lau. My Inclinations, Sir, have given you more—pray let me wait on you to your Lodgings, lest a farther Insolence shou’d be offer’d you.

Gal. Sir, you oblige too fast.
[They go out.

Sir Sig. Ah, che Diavilo Ayles, these hot-brain’d fellows, sure, they’re drunk.

Pet. Oh, fy, Signior, drunk, for a Man of Quality—’tis intolerable.

Sir Sig. Ay: why how so, Signior Morigoroso?

Pet. Imbriaco had made it a fine Speech indeed.

Sir Sig. Why, faith, and so it had, as thus,—ach Diavilo Ayles, these are hot-brain’d Fellows, sure they are imbriaco,—Now, wou’d not I be drunk for a thousand Crowns: Imbriaco sounds Cinquante per cent better.—Come, noble Signior, let’s andiamo a casa, which is as much as to say, let’s amble home.—

Tick. In troth, wondrous expert—Certo, Signior, he’s an apt Scholar.

Sir Sig. Ah, Sir, you shall see, when I come to my Civilities.—

Pet. Where the first Lesson you shall learn, is, how to give and how to receive with a Bon-Grace.

Tick. That receiving Lesson I will learn my self.

Pet. This unfrequented part of the Garden, Signior, will fit our purpose as well as your Lodgings.—first then—Signiors, your Address. [Puts himself in the middle. [Petro bows on both sides, they do the like. —Very well, that’s at the Approach of any Person of Quality, after which you must take out your Snuff-Box.

Sir Sig. Snuff-Box; why, we take no Snuff, Signior.

Pet. Then, Sir, by all means you must learn: for besides the Mode and Gravity of it, it inviveates the Pericranium; that is, sapientates the Brain,—that is, inspires Wit, Thought, Invention, Understanding, and the like—you conceive me, Signiors— [Bowing.

Sir Sig. Most profoundly, Signior.— [Bowing.

Pet.—Then, Signiors, it keeps you in confidence, and Countenance; and whilst you gravely seem to take a snush, you gain time to answer to the purpose, and in a politick Posture—as thus—to any intricate Question.

Tick. Hum—certo, I like that well; and ‘twere admirable if a Man were allow’d to take it when he’s out in’s Sermon.

Pet. Doubtless, Signior, you might, it helps the Memory better than Rosemary: therefore I have brought each of you a Snuff-Box.

Sir Sig. By no means: excuse me Signior.
[Refuses to take ‘em.

Pet. Ah, Baggatelles, Signior, Baggatelles; and now, Signiors, I’ll teach you how to take it with a handsom Grace: Signior, your Hand—and yours, Signior; [Lays Snuff on their hands. —so, now draw your hand to and fro under your Noses, and snuff it hard up—Excellent well.

[They daub all their Noses, and make Grimaces, and sneeze.

Sir Sig. Methinks, Signior, this Snuff stinks most damnably: pray, what scent do you call this?

Pet. Cackamarda Orangate, a rare Perfume I’ll assure ye, Sir.

Sir Sig. Cackamarda Orangate; and ‘twere not for the Name of Cackamarda, and so forth, a Man had as good have a Sir-reverence at his Nose.

[Sneezes often, he crys bonprovache.

Pet. Bonprovache—Signior, you do not understand it yet, bonprovache.

Sir Sig. Why, Sir, ‘tis impossible to endure this same Cackamarda; why Assafetida is odoriferous to it. [Sneezing.

Pet. ‘Tis your right Dulce Piquante, believe me:—but come, Signiors, wipe your Noses, and proceed to your giving Lesson.

Sir Sig. As how, Signior?

Pet. Why—present me with something—that—Diamond on your Finger, to shew the manner of giving handsomly. [Sir Sig. gives it him. —Oh, fie, Signior—between your Finger and Thumb—thus—with your other Fingers at a distance—with a speech, and a bow.—

Sir Sig. Illustrissimo Signior, the manifold Obligations.

Pet. Now a fine turn of your hand—thus—Oh, that sets off the Present, and makes it sparkle in the Eyes of the Receiver.— [Sir Sig. turns his hand.

Sir Sig. Which you have heap’d upon me,—

Pet. There flourish again. [He flourishes.

Sir Sig. Oblige me to beg your acceptance of this small Present, which will receive a double Lustre from your fair Hand. [Gives it him.

Pet. Now kiss your fingers ends, and retire back with a bow.

Tick. Most admirably perform’d.

Sir Sig. Nay, Sir, I have Docity in me, though I say’t: Come, Governor, let’s see how you can out-do me in the Art of presenting.

Tick. Well, Sir, come; your Snuff-Box will serve instead of my Ring, will it not?

Pet. By no means, Sir, there is such a certain Relation between a Finger and a Ring, that no Present becomes either the giving or the receiving Hand half so well.

Sir Sig. Why, ‘twill be restor’d again, ‘tis but to practise by.

Pet. Ay, Signior, the next thing you are to learn is to receive.

Tick. Most worthy Signior, I have so exhausted the Cornucopia of your Favours, [Flourishes.]—and tasted so plenteously of the fulness of your bounteous Liberality, that to retaliate with this small Gem—is but to offer a Spark, where I have received a Beam of superabundant Sunshine. [Gives it.

Sir Sig. Most rhetorically perform’d, as I hope to breathe;
Tropes and Figures all over.

Tick. Oh Lord, Sir Signal.

Pet. Excellent—Now let’s see if you can refuse as civilly as you gave, which is by an obstinate denial; stand both together—Illustrious Signiors, upon my Honour my little Merit has not intitled me to the Glory of so splendid an Offering; Trophies worthy to be laid only at your Magnanimous Feet.

Sir Sig. Ah, Signior, no, no.

Pet. Signior Tickletext.

[He offers, they refuse going backward.

Tick. Nay, certo, Signior.

Pet. With what confidence can I receive so rich a Present? Signior Tickletext, ah—Signior—

Sir Sig. I vow, Signior—I’m ashamed you shou’d offer it.

Tick. In verity, so am I. [Still going back, he follows.]

Pet. Pardio! Baccus, most incomparable.—

Tick. But when, Signior, are we to learn to receive again?—

Pet. Oh, Sir, that’s always a Lesson of it self:—but now, Signiors, I’ll teach you how to act a story.

Sir Sig. How, how, Signior, to act a story?

Pet. Ay, Sir, no matter for words or sense, so the Body perform its part well.

Sir Sig. How, tell a story without words! why, this were an excellent device for Mr. Tickletext, when he’s to hold forth to the Congregation, and has lost his Sermon-Notes—why, this is wonderful.—

Pet. Oh, Sir, I have taught it Men born deaf [Gets between ‘em: Makes a sign of being fat; galloping about the Stage.] and blind:—look ye, stand close together, and observe—closer yet:—a certain Eclejastico, Plump and Rich—Riding along the Road, meets a Paver strapiao,—un Pavaro strapiao, Paure strapiao:—strapiao—strapiao— strapiao [Puts himself into the Posture of a lean Beggar; his hands right down by his sides,—and picks both their Pockets.] Elemosuna per un Paure strapiao, par a Moure de Dievos—at last he begs a Julio—Neinte [makes the fat Bishop.] the Paure strapiao begs a Mezo Julio— [lean] Neinte [fat]—une bacio—[lean]—Neinte— [fat]—at last he begs his Blessing—and see how willingly the Ecclesiastico gave his Benediction. [Opening his Arms, hits them both in the face.]—Scusa, scusa mea, Patronas— [Begs their pardon.]

Sir Sig. Yes, very willingly, which by the way he had never done had it been worth a farthing.

Tick. Marry, I wou’d he had been a little sparing of that too at this time—[sneezes] a shame on’t, it has stir’d this same Cackamarda again most foully.

Pet. Your pardon, Signior;—but come, Sir Signal,—let’s see how you will make this silent relation—Come, stand between us two—

Sir Sig. Nay, let me alone for a memory—come.

Pet. I think I have reveng’d my Backsword-beating. [Goes off.]

Sir Sig. Un paureo strapado—plump and rich, no, no, the Ecclesiastico meet un paureo strapado—and begs a Julio.

Tick. Oh, no, Sir, the strapado begs the Julio.

Sir Sig. Ay, ay, and the Ecclesastico crys Niente—[snaps his nail.] un meze Julio!—Niente—un Bacio, Niente: your Blessing then, Signior Ecclesastico. [Spreads out his Arms to give his blessing—and hits Tick.]

Tick. Adds me, you are all a little too liberal of this same Benediction.

Sir Sig. Hah—but where’s Signior Morigoroso? what, is he gone?—but now I think on’t, ‘tis a point of good manners to go without taking leave.

Tick. It may be so, but I wish I had my Ring again, I do not like the giving Lesson without the taking one; why this is picking a Man’s pocket, certo.

Sir Sig. Not so, Governour, for then I had had a considerable loss: Look ye here,—how—how [feeling in his Pocket.] how—[in another] how—gone? gone as I live, my Money, Governour; all the Gold Barberacho receiv’d of my Merchant to day—all gone.—

Tick. Hah—and mine—all my stock, the Money which I thought to have made a present to the Gentlewoman, Barberacho was to bring me to— [Aside.]—Undone, undone—Villains, Cutpurses—Cheats, oh, run after him.

Sir Sig. A Pox of all silent stories; Rogue, Thief—undone.—

[Exeunt.

ACT III.

SCENE I. The Corso.

Enter Julio and his Page.

Jul. How, the Lady whom I followed from St. Peter’s Church, a Curtezan?

Pag. A Curtezan, my Lord, fair as the Morning, and as young.

Jul. I know she’s fair and young; but is she to be had, Boy?

Pag. My Lord, she is—her Footman told me she was a Zittella.

Jul. How, a Zittella!—a Virgin, ‘tis impossible.

Pag. I cannot swear it, Sir, but so he told me; he said she had a World of Lovers: Her name is Silvianetta, Sir, and her Lodgings—

Jul. I know’t, are on the Corso; a Curtezan? and a Zittella too? a pretty contradiction; but I’ll bate her the last, so I might enjoy her as the first: whate’er the price be, I’m resolv’d upon the adventure; and will this minute prepare my self. [Going off, Enter Mor. and Octa.]— hah, does the Light deceive me, or is that indeed my Uncle, in earnest conference with a Cavalier?—’tis he—I’ll step aside till he’s past, lest he hinders this Night’s diversion. [Goes aside.

Mor. I say ‘twas rashly done, to fight him unexamin’d.

Oct. I need not ask; my Reason has inform’d me, and I’m convinc’d, where-e’er he has concealed her, that she is fled with Fillamour.

Jul. Who is’t they speak of?

Mor. Well, well, sure my Ancestors committed some horrid crime against
Nature, that she sent this Pest of Woman-kind into our Family,—two
Nieces for my share;—by Heaven, a Proportion sufficient to undo six
Generations.

Jul. Hah? two Nieces, what of them? [Aside.

Mor. I am like to give a blessed account of ‘em to their Brother Julio my Nephew, at his return; there’s a new plague now:—but my comfort is, I shall be mad, and there’s an end on’t. [Weeps.

Jul. My Curiosity must be satisfied,—have patience, Noble Sir.—

Mor. Patience is a flatterer, Sir,—and an Ass, Sir; and I’ll have none on’t—hah, what art thou?

Jul. Has five or six Years made ye lose the remembrance of your Nephew—Julio?

Mor. Julio! I wou’d I had met thee going to thy Grave. [Weeps.

Jul. Why so, Sir?

Mor. Your Sisters, Sir, your Sisters are both gone.— [Weeps.

Jul. How gone, Sir?

Mor. Run away, Sir, flown, Sir.

Jul. Heavens! which way?

Mor. Nay, who can tell the ways of fickle Women—in short, Sir, your Sister Marcella was to have been married to this noble Gentleman,—nay, was contracted to him, fairly contracted in my own Chappel; but no sooner was his back turn’d, but in a pernicious Moon-light Night she shews me a fair pair of heels, with the young Baggage, your other Sister Cornelia, who was just come from the Monastery where I bred her, to see her Sister married.

Jul. A curse upon the Sex! why must Man’s Honour Depend upon their Frailty? —Come—give me but any light which way they went, And I will trace ‘em with that careful Vengeance—

Oct. Spoke like a Man, that understands his Honour; And I can guess how we may find the Fugitives.

Jul. Oh, name it quickly, Sir!

Oct. There was a young Cavalier—some time at Viterbo, Who I confess had Charms, Heaven has denied to me, That Trifle, Beauty, which was made to please Vain foolish Woman, which the brave and wise Want leisure to design.—

Jul. And what of him?

Oct. This fine gay thing came in your Sister’s way, And made that Conquest Nature meant such Fools for: And, Sir, she’s fled with him.

Jul. Oh, show me the Man, the daring hardy Villain, Bring me but in the view of my Revenge,—and if I fail to take it, Brand me with everlasting Infamy.

Oct. That we must leave to Fortune, and our Industry. —Come, Sir, let’s walk and think best what to do,—

[Going down the Scene, Enter Fil. and Gal.

Fil. Is not that Julio? Boy, run and call him back. [Ex. Boy, re-enters with Jul.

Jul. Oh, Fillamour, I have heard such killing news Since last I left thee—

Fil. What, prithee?

Jul. I had a Sister, Friend—dear as my Life,
And bred with all the Virtues of her Sex;
No Vestals at the Holy Fire employ’d themselves
In innocenter business than this Virgin;
Till Love, the fatal Fever of her Heart,
Betray’d her harmless Hours;
And just upon the point of being married,
The Thief stole in, and rob’d us of this Treasure:
She’as left her Husband, Parents, and her Honour,
And’s fled with the base Ruiner of her Virtue.

Fil. And lives the Villain durst affront ye thus?

Jul. He does.

Gal. Where, in what distant World?

Jul. I know not.

Fil. What is he call’d?

Jul. I know not neither,—some God direct me to the Ravisher! And if he scape my Rage, May Cowards point me out for one of their tame Herd.

Fil. In all your Quarrels I must join my Sword.

Gal. And if you want,—here’s another, Sir, that, though it be not often drawn in anger, nor cares to be, shall not be idle in good company.

Jul. I thank you both; and if I have occasion, will borrow their assistance; but I must leave you for a minute, I’ll wait on you anon.— [They all three walk as down the street, talking.

Enter Laura, with Silvio and her Equipage.

Lau. Beyond my wish, I’m got into his Friendship:
But Oh, how distant Friendship is from Love,
That’s all bestow’d on the fair Prostitute!
—Ah, Silvio, when he took me in his Arms,
Pressing my willing Bosom to his Breast,
Kissing my Cheek, calling me lovely Youth,
And wond’ring how such Beauty, and such Bravery,
Met in a Man so young! Ah, then, my Boy,
Then in that happy minute,
How near was I to telling all my Soul!
My Blushes and my Sighs were all prepar’d;
My Eyes cast down, my trembling Lips just parting.—
But still as I was ready to begin,
He cries out Silvianetta!
And to prevent mine, tells me all his Love.
—But see—he’s here.—

[Fill. and Gal. coming up the Scene.

Gal. Come, lay by all sullen Unresolves: for now the hour of the Berjere approaches, Night that was made for Lovers.—Hah! my Dear Sans-Coeur? my Life! my Soul! my Joy! Thou art of my opinion!

Lau. I’m sure I am, whate’er it be.

Gal. Why, my Friend here, and I, have sent and paid our Fine for a small Tenement of Pleasure, and I’m for taking present possession;—but hold—if you shou’d be a Rival after all.—

Lau. Not in your Silvianetta! my Love has a nice Appetite,
And must be fed with high uncommon Delicates.
I have a Mistress, Sir, of Quality;
Fair, as Imagination paints young Angels;
Wanton and gay, as was the first Corinna,
That charm’d our best of Poets;
Young as the Spring, and chearful as the Birds
That welcome in the Day;
Witty, as Fancy makes the Revelling Gods,
And equally as bounteous when she blesses.

Gal. Ah, for a fine young Whore with all these Charms! but that same Quality allays the Joy: there’s such a damn’d ado with the Obligation, that half the Pleasure’s lost in Ceremony. —Here for a thousand Crowns I reign alone, Revel all day in Love without controul. —But come to our business, I have given order for Musick, Dark Lanthorns, and Pistols.

[This while Fil., stands studying.

Fil. Death, if it shou’d not be Marcella now! [Pausing aside.

Gal. Prithee no more considering,—resolve, and let’s about it.

Fil. I wou’d not tempt my Heart again! for Love,
What e’er it may be in another’s Breast,
In mine ‘twill turn to a religious Fire;
And so to burn for her, a common Mistress,
Wou’d be an Infamy below her Practice.

Gal. Oh, if that be all, doubt not, Harry, but an Hour’s Conversation with Euphemia will convert it to as leud a flame, as a Man wou’d wish.

Lau. What a coil’s here about a Curtezan! what ado to persuade a Man to a Blessing all Rome is languishing for in vain!—Come, Sir, we must deal with him, as Physicians do with peevish Children, force him to take what will cure him.

Fil. And like those damn’d Physicians, kill me for want of method: no, I know my own Distemper best, and your Applications will make me mad.

Gal. Pox on’t, that one cannot love a Woman like a Man, but one must love like an Ass.

Lau. S’heart, I’ll be bound to lie with all the Women in Rome, with less ado than you are brought to one.

Gal. Hear ye that, Henry? s’death, art not asham’d to be instructed by one so young!—But see—the Star there appears,—the Star that conducts thee to the Shore of Bliss,—She comes! let’s feel thy [Marcella and Cornelia above with_ Philippa.] Heart, she comes! So breaks the Day on the glad Eastern Hills, Or the bright God of Rays from _Thetis’. Lap: A Rapture, now, dear Lad, and then fall to; for thou art old Dog at a long Grace.

Fil. Now I’m mere Man again, with all his Frailties— [Aside. —Bright lovely Creature!—

Gal. Damn it, how like my Lady’s eldest Son was that?

Fil. May I hope my Sacrifice may be accepted by you; by Heaven, it must be she! still she appears more like.— [Aside.

Mar. I’ve only time to tell you Night approaches, And then I will expect you.

Enter Crapine, gazes on the Ladies.

Crap. ‘Tis she, Donna Marcella, on my life, with the young wild Cornelia!—hah—yonder’s the English Cavalier too; nay then, by this Hand I’ll be paid for all my fruitless jaunts, for this good news—stay, let me mark the House.—

Mar. Now to my Disguise. [Ex. Marcella.

Gal. And have you no kind message to send to my Heart? cannot this good Example instruct you how to make me happy?

Cor. Faith, Stranger, I must consider first; she’s skilful in the Merchandize of Hearts, and has dealt in Love with so good success hitherto, she may lose one Venture, and never miss it in her Stock: but this is my first, and shou’d it prove to be a bad bargain, I were undone for ever.

Gal. I dare secure the Goods sound—

Cor. And I believe will not lie long upon my hands.

Gal. Faith, that’s according as you’ll dispose on’t, Madam—for let me tell you—gad, a good handsome proper Fellow is as staple a Commodity as any’s in the Nation;—but I wou’d be reserv’d for your own use. Faith, take a Sample to night, and as you like it, the whole Piece; and that’s fair and honest dealing I think, or the Devil’s in’t.

Cor. Ah, Stranger,—you have been so over-liberal for those same Samples of yours, that I doubt they have spoiled the sale of the rest; Cou’d you not afford, think ye, to throw in a little Love and Constancy, to inch out that want of Honesty of yours?

Gal. Love! oh, in abundance!
By those dear Eyes, by that soft smiling Mouth,
By every secret Grace thou hast about thee,
I love thee with a vigorous, eager Passion;
—Be kind, dear Silvianetta—prithee do,
Say you believe, and make me blest to Night.

Crap. Silvianetta! so, that’s the Name she has rifl’d for Cornelia, I perceive. [Aside.

Cor. If I shou’d be so kind-hearted, what good use wou’d you make of so obliging an Opportunity?

Gal. That which the happy Night was first ordain’d for.

Cor. Well, Signior, ‘tis coming on, and then I’ll try what Courage the Darkness will inspire me with:—till then—farewell.—

Gal. Till then a thousand times adieu.— [Blowing up kisses to her.

Phil. Ah, Madam, we’re undone,—yonder’s Crapine, your Uncle’s Valet.

Cor. Now a Curse on him; shall we not have one night with our Cavaliers?—let’s retire, and continue to out-wit him, or never more pretend to’t. Adieu, Signior Cavalier—remember Night.—

Gal. Or may I lose my Sense to all Eternity.

[Kisses his fingers and bows, she returns it for a while.
Exit. Crap.

Lau. Gods, that all this that looks at least like Love,
Shou’d be dispens’d to one insensible!
Whilst every syllable of that dear Value,
Whisper’d to me, wou’d make my Soul all Extasy. [Aside.
—Oh, spare that Treasure for a grateful Purchase;
And buy that common Ware with trading Gold,
Love is too rich a Price!—I shall betray my self.—[Aside.

Gal. Away, that’s an heretical Opinion, and which
This certain Reason must convince thee of;
That Love is Love, wherever Beauty is,
Nor can the Name of Whore make Beauty less.

Enter Marcella like a Man, with a Cloke about her.

Mar. Signior, is your Name Fillamour?

Fil. It is, what wou’d you, Sir?—

Mar_. I have a Letter for you—from Viterbo, and your Marcella, Sir. [Gives it him.

Fil. Hah—Viterbo! and Marcella! It shocks me like the Ghost of some forsaken Mistress, That met me in the way to Happiness, With some new long’d-for Beauty! [Opens it, reads.

Mar. Now I shall try thy Virtue, and my Fate.— [Aside.

Fil. What is’t that checks the Joy, that shou’d surprize me at the receipt of this.

Gal. How now! what’s the cold fit coming on? [Pauses.

Fil. I have no power to go—where this—invites me—
By which I prove ‘tis no encrease of Flame that warms my Heart,
But a new Fire just kindled from those Eyes—
Whose Rays I find more piercing than Marcella’s.

Gal.—Ay, Gad, a thousand times—prithee, what’s the matter?

Mar. Oh, this false-souled Man—wou’d I had leisure To be reveng’d for this Inconstancy! [Aside.

Fil.—But still she wants that Virtue I admire.

Gal. Virtue! ‘S’death thou art always fumbling upon that dull string that makes no Musick.—What Letter’s that? [Reads.] If the first Confession I ever made of Love be grateful to you, come arm’d to night with a Friend or two; and behind the Garden of the Fountains, you will receive—hah, Marcella!—Oh, damn it, from your honest Woman!—Well, I see the Devil’s never so busy with a Man, as when he has resolv’d upon any Goodness! S’death, what a rub’s here in a fair cast,—how is’t man? Alegremente! bear up, defy him and all his Works.

Fil. But I have sworn, sworn that I lov’d Marcella;
And Honour, Friend, obliges me to go,
Take her away and marry her.
—And I conjure thee to assist me too.

Gal. What, to night, this might, that I have given to Silvianetta! and you have promis’d to the fair—Euphemia!

Lau. If he shou’d go, he ruins my design, [Aside. —Nay, if your word, Sir—be already past—

Fil. ‘Tis true, I gave my promise to Euphemia; but that, to Women of her Trade, is easily absolv’d.

Gal. Men keep not Oaths for the sakes of the wise Magistrates to whom they are made, but their own Honour, Harry.—And is’t not much a greater crime to rob a gallant, hospitable Man of his Niece, who has treated you with Confidence and Friendship, than to keep touch with a well-meaning Whore, my conscientious Friend?

Lau. Infinite degrees, Sir.

Gal. Besides, thou’st an hour or two good, between this and the time requir’d to meet Marcella.

Lau. Which an industrious Lover would manage to the best advantage.

Gal. That were not given over to Virtue and Constancy; two the best excuses I know for Idleness.

Fil.—Yes—I may see this Woman.

Gal. Why, Gad-a-mercy, Lad.

Fil.—And break my Chains, if possible.

Gal. Thou wilt give a good essay to that I’ll warrant thee, Before she part with thee; come let’s about it.

[They are going out on either side of Fil. persuading him.

Mar. He’s gone, the Curtezan has got the day, [Aside. Vice has the start of Virtue every way; And for one Blessing honest Wives obtain, The happier Mistress does a thousand gain. I’ll home—and practise all their Art to prove, That nothing is so cheaply gain’d as Love. [Exit.

Gal. Stay, what Farce is this—prithee let’s see a little. [Offering to go.

[Enter Sir Signal, Mr. Tickletext, with his Cloke ty’d about him, a great Inkhorn ty’d at his Girdle and a great folio under his Arm, Petro drest like an Antiquary.

—How now, Mr. Tickletext, what, drest as if you were going a Pilgrimage to Jerusalem?

Tick. I make no such profane Journeys, Sir.

Gal. But where have you been, Mr. Tickletext?

Sir Sig. Why, Sir, this most Reverend and Renowned Antiquary has been showing us Monumental Rarities and Antiquities.

Gal. ‘Tis Petro, that Rogue.

Fil. But what Folio have you gotten there, Sir, Knox, or Cartwright?

Pet. Nay, if he be got into that heap of Nonsense, I’ll steal off and undress. [Aside.] [Ex. Petro.

[Tick, opening the Book.

Tick. A small Volume, Sir, into which I transcribe the most memorable and remarkable Transactions of the Day.

Lau. That doubtless must be worth seeing.

Fil. [Reads.]—April the twentieth, arose a very great Storm of Wind, Thunder, Lightning and Rain,—which was a shrewd sign of foul Weather. The 22th 9 of our 12 Chickens getting loose, flew overboard, the other three miraculously escaping, by being eaten by me that Morning for Breakfast.

Sir Sig. Harkye, Galliard—thou art my Friend, and ‘tis not like a Man of Honour to conceal any thing from one’s Friend,—know then I am The most fortunate Rascal that ever broke bread,—I am this night to visit, Sirrah,—the finest, the most delicious young Harlot, Mum—under the Rose—in all Rome, of Barberacho’s acquaintance.

Gal.—Hah—my Woman, on my Life! and will she be kind?

Sir Sig. Kind! hang Kindness, Man, I’m resolv’d upon Conquest by Parly or by Force.

Gal. Spoke like a Roman of the first Race, when noble Rapes, not whining Courtship, did the Lover’s business.

Sir Sig. ‘Sha, Rapes, Man! I mean by force of Money, pure dint of Gold, faith and troth: for I have given 500 Crowns entrance already, & Par Dins Bacchus, ‘tis tropo Caro—tropo Caro, Mr. Galliard.

Gal. And what’s this high-priz’d Lady’s Name, Sir?

Sir Sig. La Silvianetta,—and lodges on the Corso, not far from St.
James’s of the Incurables—very well situated in case of disaster—hah.

Gal. Very well,—and did not your wise Worship know this Silvianetta was my Mistress?

Sir Sig. How! his Mistress! what a damn’d Noddy was I to name her!
[Aside.

Gal. D’ye hear, fool! renounce me this Woman instantly, or I’ll first discover it to your Governour, and then cut your throat, Sir.

Sir Sig. Oh, Doux Ment—dear Galliard—Renounce her,—Corpo de mi, that I will soul and body, if she belong to thee, Man.—

Gal. No more; look to’t—look you forget her Name—or but to think of her—farewel— [Nods at him.

Sir Sig. Farewell, quoth ye—’tis well I had the Art of dissembling after all, here had been a sweet broil upon the Coast else.—

Fil. Very well, I’ll trouble my self to read no more, since I know you’l be so kind to the world to make it publick.

Tick. At my return, Sir, for the good of the Nation, I will print it, and I think it will deserve it.

Lau. This is a precious Rogue, to make a Tutor of.

Fil. Yet these Mooncalfs dare pretend to the breeding of our Youth; and the time will come, I fear, when none shall be reputed to travel like a Man of Quality, who has not the advantage of being impos’d upon by one of these pedantick Novices, who instructs the young Heir in what himself is most profoundly ignorant of.

Gal. Come, ‘tis dark, and time for our Design,—your Servant, Signiors. [Exeunt Fil. and Gal.

Lau. I’ll home, and watch the kind deceiving Minute, that may conduct him by mistake to me. [Exit.

Enter Petro, like Barberacho, just as Tick.
and Sir Signal are going out.

Sir Sig. Oh, Barberacho, we are undone! Oh, the Diavillo take that
Master you sent me?

Pet. Master, what Master?

Sir Sig. Why, Signior Morigoroso!

Pet. Mor—oso—what shou’d he be?

Sir Sig. A Civility-Master he should have been, to have taught us good Manners;—but the Cornuto cheated us most damnably, and by a willing mistake taught us nothing in the world but Wit.

Pet. Oh, abominable Knavery! why, what a kind of Man was he?

Sir Sig.—Why—much such another as your self.

Tick. Higher, Signior, higher.

Sir Sig. Ay, somewhat higher—but just of his pitch.

Pet. Well, Sir, and what of this Man?

Sir Sig. Only pickt our Pockets, that’s all.

Tick. Yes, and cozen’d us of our Rings.

Sir Sig. Ay, and gave us Cackamarda Orangata for Snuff.

Tick. And his Blessing to boot when he had done.

Sir Sig. A vengeance on’t, I feel it still.

Pet. Why, this ‘tis to do things of your own head; for I sent no such Signior Moroso—but I’ll see what I can do to retrieve ‘em—I am now a little in haste, farewell.— [Offers to go, Tick. goes out by him and jogs him.

Tick. Remember to meet me—farewel, Barberacho. [Goes out, Sir Sig. pulls him.

Sir Sig. Barberacho—is the Lady ready?

Pet. Is your Money ready?

Sir Sig. Why, now, though I am threatned, and kill’d, and beaten, and kick’d about this Intrigue, I must advance. [Aside.]—But dost think there’s no danger?

Pet. What, in a delicate young amorous Lady, Signior?

Sir Sig. No, no, mum, I don’t much fear the Lady; but this same mad fellow Galliard, I hear, has a kind of a hankering after her— Now dare not I tell him what a discovery I have made. [Aside.

Pet. Let me alone to secure you, meet me in the Piazzo d’.ispagnia, as soon as you can get yourself in order; where the two Fools shall meet, and prevent either’s coming. [Aside.

Sir Sig. Enough,—here’s a Bill for 500 Crowns more upon my Merchant, you know him by a good token, I lost the last Sum you receiv’d for me, a pox of that Handsel; away, here’s company. [Ex. Pet. Enter Octavio and Crapine.] Now will I disguise my self, according to the mode of the Roman Inamoratos; and deliver my self upon the place appointed. [Ex. Sir Sig.

Oct. On the Corso didst thou see ‘em?

Crap. On the Corso, my Lord, in discourse with three Cavaliers, one of which has given me many a Pistole, to let him into the Garden a-nights at Viterbo, to talk with Donna Marcella from her Chamber-Window, I think I shou’d remember him.

Oct. Oh, that Thought fires me with Anger fit for my Revenge, [Aside. And they are to serenade ‘em, thou say’st?

Crap. I did, my Lord: and if you can have patience till they come, you will find your Rival in this very place, if he keep his word.

Oct. I do believe thee, and have prepared my Bravoes to attack him: if I can act but my Revenge to night, how shall I worship Fortune? Keep out of sight, and when I give the word, be ready all. I hear some coming, let’s walk off a little.—

Enter Marcella in Man’s Clothes, and Philippa as a Woman with a Lanthorn. Oct. and Crap. go off the other way.

Mar. Thou canst never convince me, but if Crapine saw us, and gaz’d so long upon us, he must know us too; and then what hinders but by a diligent watch about the House, they will surprize us, e’er we have secured our selves from ‘em?

Phil. And how will this exposing your self to danger prevent ‘em?

Mar. My design now is, to prevent Fillamour’s coming into danger, by hindring his approach to this House: I wou’d preserve the kind Ingrate with any hazard of my own; and ‘tis better to die than fall into the hands of Octavio. I’m desperate with that thought, and fear no danger: however, be you ready at the door, and when I ring admit me—ha—who comes here?

Enter Tickletext with a Periwig and Crevat of Sir Signal’s: A Sword by his side, and a dark Lanthorn; she opens hers, looks on him, and goes out.

Tick. A Man! now am I, though an old Sinner, as timorous as a young Thief: ‘tis a great inconvenience in these Popish Countrys, that a man cannot have liberty to steal to a Wench without danger; not that I need fear who sees me except Galliard, who suspecting my business, will go near to think I am wickedly inclin’d. Sir Signal I have left hard at his Study, and Sir Henry is no nocturnal Inamorato, unless like me he dissemble it.—Well, certo, ‘tis a wonderful pleasure to deceive the World: And as a learned Man well observ’d, that the Sin of Wenching lay in the Habit only; I having laid that aside, Timothy Tickletext, principal Holder-forth of the Covent-Garden Conventicle, Chaplain of Buffoon-Hall in the County of Kent, is free to recreate himself.

Enter Gal. with a dark Lanthorn.

Gal. Where the Devil is this Fillamour? and the Mufick? which way cou’d he go to lose me thus? [Looks towards the Door. —He is not yet come—

Tick. Not yet come—that must be Barberacho!— Where are ye, honest Barberacho, where are ye? [Groping towards Gal.

Gal. Hah! Barberacho? that Name I am sure is us’d by none but Sir Signal and his Coxcomb Tutor; it must be one of those—Where are ye, Signior, where are ye? [Goes towards him, and opens the Lanthorn—and shuts it strait.

—Oh, ‘tis the Knight,—are you there, Signior?

Tick. Oh, art thou come, honest Rascal—conduct me quickly, conduct me to the beautiful and fair Silvianetta. [Gives him his Hand.

Gal. Yes, when your Dogship’s damn’d. Silvianetta! Sdeath, is she a Whore for Fools? [Draws.

Tick. Hah, Mr. Galliard, as the Devil would have it;—I’m undone if he sees me. [He retires hastily, Gal. gropes for him.

Gal. Where are you, Fop? Buffoon! Knight!

[Tickletext retiring hastily runs against Octavio, who is just entering, almost beats him down; Oct. strikes him a good blow, beats him back and draws: Tick, gets close up in a corner of the Stage; Oct. gropes for him, as Gal. does, and both meet and fight with each other.

—What, dare you draw,—you have the impudence to be valiant then in the dark, [they pass.] I wou’d not kill the Rogue,—’Sdeath, you can fight then, when there’s a Woman in the case!

Oct. I hope ‘tis Fillarnour; [Aside.] You’ll find I can, and possibly may spoil your making Love to night.

Gal. Egad, Sweet-heart, and that may be, one civil Thrust will do’t;— and ‘twere a damn’d rude thing to disappoint so fine a Woman,—therefore I’ll withdraw whilst I’m well. [He slips out.

Enter Sir Signal, with a Masquerading Coat over his Clothes, without a Wig or Crevat, with a dark Lanthorn.

Sir Sig. Well, I have most neatly escap’d my Tutor; and in this disguise defy the Devil to claim his own.—Ah, Caspeto de Deavilo;— What’s that?

[Advancing softly, and groping with his hands, meets the point of Oct. Sword, as he is groping for Gal.

Oct. Traitor, darest thou not stand my Sword?

Sir Sig. Hah! Swords! no, Signior—scusa mea, Signioir,—

[Hops to the door: And feeling for his way with his out-stretcht Arms, runs his Lanthorn in Julio’s face, who is just entring; finds he’s oppos’d with a good push backward, and slips aside into a corner over-against Tickletext; Julio meets Octavio, and fights him; Oct. falls, Julio opens his Lanthorn, and sees his mistake.

Jut. Is it you, Sir?

Oct. Julio! From what Mistake grew all this Violence?

Jul. That I shou’d ask of you, who meet you arm’d against me.

Oct. I find the Night has equally deceiv’d us; and you are fitly come to share with me the hopes of dear Revenge. [Gropes for his Lanthorn, which is dropt.

Jul. I’d rather have pursu’d my kinder Passion, Love, and Desire, that brought me forth to night.

Oct. I’ve learnt where my false Rival is to be this Evening; And if you’ll join your Sword, you’ll find it well employ’d.

Jul. Lead on, I’m as impatient of Revenge as you.—

Oct. Come this way then, you’ll find more Aids to serve us.

[Go out.

Tick.—So! Thanks be prais’d, all’s still again, this Fright were enough to mortify any Lover of less magnanimity than my self.—Well, of all Sins, this itch of Whoring is the most hardy,—the most impudent in Repulses, the most vigilant in watching, most patient in waiting, most frequent in Dangers; in all Disasters but Disappointment, a Philosopher; yet if Barberacho come not quickly, my Philosophy will be put to’t, certo.

[This while Sir Signal is venturing from his Post, listening, and slowly advancing towards the middle of the Stage.

Sir Sig. The Coast is once more clear, and I may venture my Carcase forth again,—though such a Salutation as the last, wou’d make me very unfit for the matter in hand.—The Battoon I cou’d bear with the Fortitude and Courage of a Hero: But these dangerous Sharps I never lov’d. What different Rencounters have I met withal to night, Corpo de me? A Man may more safely pass the Gulf of Lyons, than convoy himself into a Baudy-House in Rome; but I hope all’s past, and I will say with Alexander,—Vivat Esperance en despetto del Fatto. [Advances a little.

Tick. Sure I heard a noise;—No, ‘twas only my surmise.

[They both advance softly, meeting just in the middle of the Stage, and coming close up to each other; both cautiously start back, and stand a tipto in the posture of Fear, then gently feeling for each other, (after listening and hearing no Noise) draw back their Hands at touching each other’s; and shrinking up their Shoulders, make grimaces of more Fear.

Tick. Que Equesto.

Sir Sig. Hah, a Man’s Voice!—I’ll try if I can fright him hence.
[Aside.
Una Malladette Spiritto Incarnate.
[In a horrible tone.

Tick. Hah, Spiritto Incarnate! that Devil’s Voice I shou’d know.
[Aside.

Sir Sig. See, Signior! Una Spiritto, which is to say, un Spiritalo,
Immortallo, Incorporallo, Inanimate, Immaterialle, Philosophicale,
Invisible—Unintelligible—Diavillo.
[In the same tone.

Tick. Ay, ay, ‘tis my hopeful Pupil, upon the same design with me, my life on’t,—cunning young Whore-master;—I’ll cool your Courage—good Signior Diavillo; if you be the Diavillo, I have una certaina Immaterial Invisible Conjuratione, that will so neatly lay your Inanimate unintelligible Diavilloship.— [Pulls out his wooden Sword.

Sir Sig. How! he must needs be valiant indeed that dares fight with the Devil. [Endeavours to get away, Tick, beats him about the Stage.] —Ah, Signior, Signior, Mia! ah—Caspeto de Baccus—he cornuto, I am a damn’d silly Devil that have no dexterity in vanishing.

[Gropes and finds the Door—going out, meets just entring Fillamour, Galliard with all the Musick—he retires, and stands close.

—Hah,—what have we here, new Mischief?—

[Tick. and he stands against each other, on either side of the Stage.

Fil. Prithee how came we to lose ye?

Gal. I thought I had follow’d ye—but ‘tis well we are met again. Come tune your Pipes.— [They play a little, enter Marcella as before.

Mar. This must be he. [Goes up to ‘em.

Gal. Come, come, your Song, Boy, your Song.

Whilst ‘tis singing, Enter Octavio, Julio, Crapine, and Bravos.

The SONG.

_Crudo Amore, Crudo Amore, |
Il mio Core non fa per te | bis
Suffrir non vo tormenti
Senza mai sperar mar ce
Belta che sia Tiranna,
Belta che sia Tiranna
Doll meo offerto recetto non e
Il tuo rigor singunna
Se le pene
Le catene
Tenta auolgere al mio pie
See see Crudel Amore |
Il mio Core non fa per te. | bis

Lusinghiero, Lusinghiero, |
Pui non Credo alta tua fe | bis
L’ incendio del tuo foce
Nel mio Core pui vivo none
Belta che li die Luoce
Belta che li die Luoce
Ma il rigor L’Ardore s’bande
Io non sato tuo gioce
Ch’ il Veleno
Del mio seno
Vergoroso faggito se n’e.
See see Crudel Amore |
Il mio Core non fa per te_. | bis

Oct. ‘Tis they we look for, draw and be ready.—

Tick. Hah, draw—then there’s no safety here, certo. [Aside.

[Octavio, Julio and their Party draw, and fight with Fil. and Gal. Marcella ingages on their side; all fight, the Musick confusedly amongst ‘em: Gal. loses his Sword, and in the hurry gets a Base Viol, and happens to strike Tickletext, who is getting away—his Head breaks its way quite through, and it hangs about his neck; they fight out.

Enter_ Petro with a Lanthorn. Sir Signal stands close still.

Tick. Oh, undone, undone! where am I, where am I?

Pet. Hah—that’s the voice of my amorous Ananias,—or I am mistaken— what the Devil’s the matter? [Opens his Lanthorn. —Where are ye, Sir?—hah, cuts so—what new-found Pillory have we here?

Tick. Oh, honest Barberacho, undo me, undo me quickly.

Pet. So I design, Sir, as fast as I can—or lose my aim—there, Sir, there: All’s well—I have set you free, come follow me the back way into the house.

[Ex. Pet. and Tickletext.

Enter Fillamour and Marcella, with their Swords drawn, Gal. after ‘em.

Gal. A plague upon ‘em, what a quarter’s here for a Wench, as if there were no more i’th’ Nation?—wou’d I’d my Sword again. [Gropes for it.

Mar. Which way shall I direct him to be safer?—how is it, Sir? I hope you are not hurt.

Fil. Not that I feel, what art thou ask’st so kindly?

Mar. A Servant to the Roman Curtezan, who sent me forth to wait your coming, Sir; but finding you in danger, shar’d it with you.—Come, let me lead you into safety, Sir—

Fil. Thou’st been too kind to give me cause to doubt thee.

Mar. Follow me, Sir, this Key will give us entrance through the Garden. [Exeunt.

Enter Octavio with his Sword in his hand.

Oct. Oh! what damn’d luck had I so poorly to be vanquisht! When all is hush’d, I know he will return,—therefore I’ll fix me here, till I become a furious Statue—but I’ll reach his heart.

Sir Sig. Oh lamentivolo fato—what bloody Villains these Popish Italians are!

Enter Julio.

Oct. Hah—I hear one coming this way—hah—the door opens too, and he makes toward it—pray Heaven he be the right, for this I’m sure’s the House.—Now, Luck, an’t be thy will— [Follows Julio towards the door softly.

Jul. The Rogues are fled, but how secure I know not;— And I’ll pursue my first design of Love, And if this Silvianetta will be kind—

Enter Laura from the House in a Night-gown.

Lau. Whist—who is’t names Silvianetta?

Jul. A Lover, and her Slave— [She takes him by the hand.

Lau. Oh, is it you,—are you escap’d unhurt? Come to my Bosom—and be safe for ever—

Jul. ‘Tis Love that calls, and now Revenge must stay, —This hour is thine, fond Boy; the next that is my own I’ll give to Anger.—

Oct. Oh, ye pernicious Pair,—I’ll quickly change the Scene of Love into a rougher and more unexpected Entertainment.

[She leads Julio in.—Oct. follows close, they shut the door upon ‘em. Sir Sig. _thrusts out his head to hearken, hears no body, and advances.

Sir Sig. Sure the Devil reigns to night; wou’d I were shelter’d, and let him rain Fire and Brimstone: for pass the streets I dare not—this shou’d be the House—or hereabouts I’m sure ‘tis.—Hah—what’s this—a String—of a Bell I hope—I’ll try to enter; and if I am mistaken, ‘tis but crying Con licentia. [Rings, enter Philippa. Phil. Who’s there?

Sir Sig. ‘Tis I, ‘tis I, let me in quickly.—

Phil. Who—the English Cavalier?

Sir Sig. The same—I am right—I see I was expected.

Phil. I’m glad you’re come—give me your hand.—

Sir Sig. I am fortunate at last,—and therefore will say with the famous Poet.

No Happiness like that atchicv’d with Danger,
—Which once overcome—I lie at Rack and Manger.

[Exeunt.

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

Enter Fillamour and Galliard, as in Silvianetta’s Apartment.

Fil. How splendidly these common Women live!
How rich is all we meet with in this Palace;
And rather seems the Apartment of some Prince,
Than a Receptacle for Lust and Shame.

Gal. You see, Harry, all the keeping Fools are not in our Dominions; but this grave, this wise People, are Mistress-ridden too.

Fil. I fear we have mistook the House, and the Youth that brought us in may have deceived us, on some other design; however whilst I’ve this—I cannot fear—[Draws.

Gal. A good caution, and I’ll stand upon my guard with this; but see— here’s one will put us out of doubt. [Pulls a Pistol out of his pocket.

Fil. Hah! the fair Inchantress.

[Enter Mar. richly and loosely drest.

Mar. What, on your guard, my lovely Cavalier? Lies there a danger
In this Face and Eyes, that needs that rough resistance?
—Hide, hide that mark of Anger from my sight,
And if thou wou’dst be absolute Conquerer here,
Put on soft Looks, with Eyes all languishing,
Words tender, gentle Sighs, and kind Desires.

Gal. Death, with what unconcern he hears all this! Art thou possest?—Pox, why dost not answer her?

Mar. I hope he will not yield—[Aside.
—He stands unmov’d—
Surely I was mistaken in this Face,
And I believe in Charms that have no power.

Gal. ‘Sdeath, thou deservest not such a noble Creature,— I’ll have ‘em both my self.—[Aside.

Fil.—Yes, thou hast wondrous power, And I have felt it long. [Pausingly.

Mar. How!

Fil.—I’ve often seen that Face—but ‘twas in Dreams:
And sleeping lov’d extremely!
And waking;—sigh’d to find it but a Dream:
The lovely Phantom vanish’d with my Slumbers,
But left a strong Idea on my heart
Of what I find in perfect Beauty here,
—But with this difference, she was virtuous too.

Mar. What silly she was that?

Fil. She whom I dream’d I lov’d.

Mar. You only dreamt that she was virtuous too;
Virtue it self’s a Dream of so slight force,
The very fluttering of Love’s Wings destroys it;
Ambition, or the meaner hope of Interest, wakes it to nothing;
In Men a feeble Beauty shakes the dull slumber off.—

Gal. Egad, she argues like an Angel, Harry.

Fil.—What haste thou’st made to damn thy self so young!
Hast thou been long thus wicked? hast thou sinn’d past Repentance?
Heaven may do much to save so fair a Criminal;
Turn yet, and be forgiven.

Gal. What a Pox dost thou mean by all this Canting?

Mar. A very pretty Sermon, and from a Priest so gay,
It cannot chuse but edify.
Do Holy men of your Religion, Signior, wear all this Habit?
Are they thus young and lovely? Sure if they are,
Your Congregation’s all compos’d of Ladies;
The Laity must come abroad for Mistresses.

Fil. Oh, that this charming Woman were but honest!

Gal. ‘Twere better thou wert damn’d; honest! Pox, thou dost come out with things so mal a propo—

Mar. Come leave this Mask of foolish Modesty,
And let us haste where Love and Musick calls;
Musick, that heightens Love, and makes the Soul
Ready for soft Impressions.

Gal. So, she will do his business with a Vengeance.

Fil. Plague of this tempting Woman, she will ruin me:
I find weak Virtue melt from round my Heart,
To give her Tyrant Image a Possession:
So the warm Sun thaws Rivers icy Tops.
Till in the stream he sees his own bright Face.

Gal. Now he comes on apace,—how is’t, my Friend?
Thou stand’st as thou’dst forgot thy business here,
—The Woman, Harry, the fair Curtezan;
Canst thou withstand her Charms? I’ve business of my own,
Prithee fall to—and talk of Love to her.

Fil. Oh, I cou’d talk Eternity away, In nothing else but Love;—cou’dst thou be honest?

Mar. Honest! was it for that you sent two thousand Crowns, Or did believe that trifling Sum sufficient To buy me to the slavery of Honesty?

Gal. Hold there, my brave Virago.

Fil. No, I wou’d sacrifice a nobler Fortune, To buy thy Virtue home.

Mar. What shou’d it idling there?

Fil. Why—make thee constant to some happy Man, That wou’d adore thee for’t.

Mar. Unconscionable! constant at my years?
—Oh, ‘twere to cheat a thousand,
Who between this and my dull Age of Constancy.
Expect the distribution of my Beauty.

Gal. ‘Tis a brave Wench— [Aside.

Fil. Yet charming as thou art, the time will come
When all that Beauty, like declining Flowers,
Will wither on the Stalk,—but with this difference,
The next kind Spring brings Youth to Flowers again,
But faded Beauty never more can bloom.
—If Interest make thee wicked, I can supply thy Pride.—

Mar. Curse on your necessary Trash!—which I despise, But as ‘tis useful to advance our Love.

Fil. Is Love thy business? who is there born so high,
But Love and Beauty equals?
And thou mayst chuse from all the wishing World.
This Wealth together wou’d inrich one Man,
Which dealt to all, wou’d scarce be Charity.

Mar. Together! ‘tis a Mass wou’d ransom Kings: Was all this Beauty given for one poor petty Conquest? —I might have made a hundred Hearts my slaves, In this lost time of bringing one to Reason.— Farewel, thou dull Philosopher in Love; When Age has made me wise, I’ll send for you again. [Offers to go, Gal. holds her.

Gal. By this good Light, a noble glorious Whore.

Fil. Oh, stay, I must not let such Beauty fall,
—A Whore—consider yet the Charms of Reputation,
The Ease, the Quiet, and Content of Innocence,
The awful Reverence all good Men will pay thee,
Who, as thou art, will gaze without respect,
—And cry—what pity ‘tis she is—a Whore—

Mar. O, you may give it what coarse name you please, But all this Youth and Beauty ne’er was given, Like Gold to Misers, to be kept from use. [Going out.

Fil. Lost, lost—past all Redemption.

Gal. Nay, Gad, thou shalt not lose her so—I’ll fetch her back, and thou shalt ask her pardon. [Runs out after her.

Fil. By Heaven, it was all a Dream! an airy Dream! The visionary Pleasure disappears,—and I’m myself again, —I’ll fly before the drousy Fit o’ertake me. [Going out, Enter Gal. and then Marcella.

Gal. Turn back—she yields, she yields to pardon thee. Gone! nay, hang me if ye part. [Runs after him, still his Pistol in his hand.

Mar. Gone! I have no leisure now for more dissembling. [Takes the Candle, and goes in.

Enter Petro, leading in Mr. Tickletext, as by dark.

Pet. Remain here, Signior, whilst I step and fetch a light.

Tick. Do so, do so, honest Barberacho.—Well, my escape even now from Sir Signal was miraculous, thanks to my Prudence and Prowess; had he discover’d me, my Dominion had ended, and my Authority been of none effect, certo.

[Philippa at the door puts in Sir Signal.

Phil. Now, Signior, you’re out of danger, I’ll fetch a Candle, and let my Lady know of your being here.

[Exit Phil. Sir Sig. advances a little.

Enter Petro with a light, goes between ‘em, and starts.

Tick. Sir Signal!—

Sir Sig. My Governour!

Pet. The two Fools met! a pox of all ill luck! Now shall I lose my Credit with both my wise Patrons; my Knight I cou’d have put off with a small Harlot of my own, but my Levite having seen my Lady Cornelia, that is, La Silvianetta,—none but that Susanna wou’d satisfy his Eldership. But now they both sav’d me the labour of a farther invention to dispatch ‘em.

Sir Sig. I perceive my Governour’s as much confounded as my self;—I’ll take advantage by the forelock, be very impudent, and put it upon him, faith—Ah, Governour, will you never leave your whoring? never be staid, sober and discreet, as I am?

Tick. So, so, undone, undone! just my Documents to him.— [Walks about, Sir Sig. follows.

Sir Sig. And must I neglect my precious studies, to follow you, in pure zeal and tender care of your Person? Will you never consider where you are? In a leud Papish Country, amongst the Romish Heathens! And for you, a Governour, a Tutor, a Director of unbridled Youth, a Gownman, a Politician; for you, I say, to be taken at this unrighteous time of the Night, in a flaunting Cavaliero Dress, an unlawful Weapon by your side, going the high way to Satan, to a Curtezan; and to a Romish Curtezan! Oh Abomination! Oh scandalum infinitum!

Tick. Paid in my own Coin.

Pet. So, I’ll leave the Devil to rebuke Sin: and to my young Lady, for a little of her assistance in the management of this Affair. [Exit Pet.

Tick. I do confess, I grant ye I am in the house of a Curtezan, and that I came to visit a Curtezan, and do intend to visit each Night a several Curtezan, till I have finished my work—

Sir Sig. Every night one! Oh Glutton!

Tick. My great work of Convertion, upon the whole Nation, Generation, and Vocation of this wicked provoking sort of Womankind call’d Curtezans. I will turn ‘em; I will turn ‘em, for ‘tis a shame that Man shou’d bow down to those that worship Idols. And now I think, Sir, I have sufficiently explain’d the business in hand,—as honest Barberacho is my witness;—And for you—to—scandalize—me—with so naughty an Interpretation—afflicteth me wonderfully.— [Pulls out his handkerchief, and weeps.

Sir Sig.—Alas, poor Mr. Tickletext, now as I hope to be sav’d, it grieves my heart to see thee weep; faith and troth now, I thought thou hadst some carnal Assignation:—but ne’er stir, I beg thy pardon, and think thee as innocent as my self, that I do—but see, the Lady’s here— s’life, dry your Eyes, man.

[Enter Cornelia, Phil, and Pet.

Cor. I cou’d beat thee for being thus mistaken, and am resolv’d to flatter him into some Mischief, to be reveng’d on ‘em for this disappointment; go you, and watch for my Cavalier the while.

Tick. Is she come? Nay, then turn me loose to her.

Cor. My Cavalier! [Addressing to Sir Sig. Tick. pulls him by, and speaks.

Tick.—Lady—

Sir Sig. You, Sir! why, who the Devil made you a Cavalier? most Potentissima Signiora, I am the man of Title, by name Sir Signal Buffoon, sole Son and Heir to Eight Thousand Pound a year.—

Tick. Oh, Sir, are you the Man she looks for?

Sir Sig. I, Sir? no, Sir: I’d have ye know, Sir, I scorn any Woman, be she never so fair, unless her design be honest and honourable.

Cor. The Man of all the World I’ve chosen out, from all the Wits and Beauties I have seen,—to have most finely beaten. [Aside.

Sir Sig. How! In love with me already,—she’s damnable handsome too: now wou’d my Tutor were hang’d a little for an hour or two, out of the way. [Aside.

Cor. Why fly you not into my Arms, [She approaching, he shunning. These Arms that were design’d for soft Embraces?

Sir Sig. Ay, and if my Tutor were not here, the Devil take him that wou’d hinder ‘em—and I think that’s civil, egad.

Tick. Why, how now, Barberacho, what, am I cozen’d then, and is Sir Signal the Man in favour? [Aside to Petro.

Pet. Lord, Signior, that so wise a man as you cannot perceive her meaning,—for the Devil take me if I can. [Aside.—Why this is done to take off all suspicion from you—and lay it on him;—don’t you conceive it, Signior?

Tick. Yes, honest Rogue,—Oh the witty Wag-tail,—I have a part to play too, that shall confirm it—young Gentlewoman.—

Cor. Ah, Belle ingrate, is’t thus you recompense my suffering Love? to fly this Beauty so ador’d by all, that slight the ready Conquest of the World, to trust a Heart with you?—Ah—Traditor Cruella.

Sir Sig. Poor Heart, it goes to the very soul of me to be so coy and scornful to her, that it does; but a pox on’t, her over-fondness will discover all.

Tick. Fly, fly, young Man, whilst yet thou hast a spark of Virtue shining in thee, fly the temptations of this young Hypocrite; the Love that she pretends with so much zeal and ardour, is indecent, unwarrantable and unlawful; first indecent, as she is Woman—for thou art Woman—and beautiful Woman—yes, very beautiful Woman; on whom Nature hath shew’d her height of Excellence in the out-work, but left thee unfinisht, imperfect and impure.

Cor. Heavens, what have we here?

Sir Sig. A Pox of my Sir Domine; now is he beside his Text, and will spoil all.

Tick. Secondly, Unwarrantable; by what Authority dost thou seduce with the Allurements of thine Eyes, and the Conjurements of thy Tongue, the Wastings of thy Hands, and the Tinklings of thy Feet, the young Men in the Villages?

Cor. Sirrah, how got this Madman in? seize him, and take him hence.

Sir Sig. Corpo de mi, my Governour tickles her notably, I’faith—but had he let the care of my Soul alone to night, and have let me taken care of my Body, ‘twould have been more material at this time.

Tick. Thirdly, Unlawful—

Cor. Quite distracted! in pity take him hence, and lead him into Darkness, ‘twill suit his Madness best.

Tick. How, distracted! take him hence.

Pet. This was lucky—I knew she wou’d come again—Take him hence—yes, into her Bed-chamber—pretty device to get you to her self, Signior.

Tick. Why, but is it?—Nay then I will facilitate my departure— therefore I say, Oh most beautiful and tempting Woman— [Beginning to preach again.

Cor. Away with him, give him clean straw and darkness, And chain him fast, for fear of further mischief.

Pet. She means for fear of losing ye.

Tick. Ah, Baggage! as fast as she will in those pretty Arms. [Going to lead him off.

Sir Sig. Hold, hold, man; mad, said ye!—ha, ha, ha—mad! why we have a thousand of these in England that go loose about the streets, and pass with us for as sober discreet religious persons, as a man shall wish to talk nonsense withal.

Pet. You are mistaken, Signior, I say he is mad, stark mad.

Sir Sig. Prithee, Barberacho, what dost thou mean?

Pet. To rid him hence, that she may be alone with you—’slife, Sir, you’re madder than he—don’t you conceive?—

Sir Sig. Ay, ay; nay, I confess, Illustrissima Signiora, my Governour has a Fit that takes him now and then, a kind of frensy,—a figary—a whimsy—a maggot, that bites always at naming of Popery: [Exit. Pet. with Tick.]—so—he’s gone.—Bellissima Signiora,—you have most artificially remov’d him—and this extraordinary proof of your affection is a sign of some small kindness towards me; and though I was something coy and reserv’d before my Governour, Excellentissima Signiora, let me tell you, your Love is not cast away.

Cor. Oh, Sir, you bless too fast; but will you ever love me?

Sir Sig. Love thee! ay and lie with thee too, most magnanimous Signiora, and beget a whole Race of Roman Julius Caesars upon thee; nay, now we’re alone, turn me loose to Impudence, i’faith. [Ruffles her; Enter Philippa in haste, shutting the door after her.

Phil. Oh, Madam, here’s the young mad English Cavalier got into the House, and will not be deny’d seeing you.

Cor. This was lucky.

Sir Sig. How, the mad English Cavalier! if this shou’d be our young Count Galliard now—I were in a sweet taking—Oh, I know by my fears ’.is he;—Oh, prithee what kind of a manner of Man is he?

Phil. A handsom—resolute—brave—bold—

Sir Sig. Oh, enough, enough—Madam, I’ll take my leave—I see you are something busy at present,—an I’ll—

Cor. Not for the World:—Philippa, bring in the Cavalier—that you may see there’s none here fears him, Signior.

Sir Sig. Oh, hold, hold—Madam, you are mistaken in that point; for, to tell you the truth, I do fear—having—a certain—Aversion or Antipathy— to—Madam—a Gentleman—Why, Madam, they’re the very Monsters of the Nation, they devour every Day a Virgin.—

Cor. Good Heavens! and is he such a Fury?

Sir Sig. Oh, and the veriest Beelzebub;—besides, Madam, he vow’d my Death, if ever he catcht me near this House; and he ever keeps his word in cases of this Nature—Oh, that’s he, [Knocking at the Door.] I know it by a certain trembling Instinct about me!—Oh, what shall I do—

Cor. Why—I know not,—can you leap a high Window?

Sir Sig. He knocks again,—I protest I am the worst Vaulter in Christendom.—Have you no moderate danger—between the two extremes of the Window or the mad Count? no Closet?—Fear has dwindled me to the scantling of a Mousehole.

Cor. Let me see,—I have no leisure to pursue my Revenge farther, and will rest satisfy’d with this,—for this time. [Aside.]—Give me the Candle,—and whilst Philippa is conducting the Cavalier to the Alcove by dark, you may have an Opportunity to slip out—perhaps there may be danger in his being seen—[Aside.] Farewel, Fool—

[Ex. Cornelia with the Candle, Phil. goes to the Door, lets in Gal. takes him by the hand.

Gal. Pox on’t, my Knight’s bound for Viterbo, and there’s no persuading him into safe Harbour again.—He has given me but two hours to dispatch matters here,—and then I’m to imbark with him upon this new Discovery of honourable Love, as he call it, whose Adventurers are Fools, and the returning Cargo, that dead Commodity called a Wife! a Voyage very suitable to my Humour.—Who’s there?—

Phil. A Slave of Silvianetta, Sir; give me your hand.

[Ex. over the stage, Sir Sig. goes out softly.

SCENE II. Changes to a Bed-chamber Alcove.

Petro leading in Tickletext.

Pet. Now, Signior, you’re safe and happy in the Bedchamber of your Mistress—who will be here immediately, I’m sure; I’ll fetch a Light, and put you to Bed in the mean time—

Tick. Not before Supper I hope, honest Barberacho.

Pet. Oh, Signior, that you shall do lying, after the manner of the antient Romans.

Tick. Certo, and that was a marvellous good lazy Custom.

[Ex. Pet.

Enter Philippa with Galliard by dark.

Phil. My Lady will be with you instantly—[Goes out.

Tick. Hah, sure I heard some body come softly in at the door: I hope ’.is the young Gentlewoman. [He advances forward.

Gal. Silence and Night, Love and dear Opportunity. [In a soft Tone. Join all your aids to make my Silvia kind; For I am fill’d with the expecting Bliss, [Tick, thrusts his Head out to listen. And much Delay or Disappointment kills me.

Tick. Disappointment kills me,—and me too, certo—’tis she— [Gropes about.

Gal. Oh, haste, my Fair, haste to my longing Arms, Where are you, dear and loveliest of your Sex?

Tick. That’s I, that’s I, my Alma! mea Core, mea Vita! [Groping and speaking low.

Gal. Hah—art thou come, my Life! my Soul! my Joy! [Goes to embrace Tick, they meet and kiss. ’.death, what’s this, a bearded Mistress! Lights, Lights there, quickly, Lights! nay, curse me if thou scap’st me.

[Tick. struggles to get away, he holds him by the Crevat and Perriwig; Enter Petro with a Candle.

Gal. Barberacho—confound him, ‘tis the Fool whom I found this Evening about the House, hovering to roost him here!—Ha—what the Devil have I caught—a Tartar? escap’d again! the Devil’s his Confederate.—

[Pet. puts out the Candle, comes to Tick, unties his
Crevat behind, and he slips his head out of the Perriwig,
and gets away, leaving both in Gal’s hands.

Pet. Give me your Hand, I’ll lead you a back-pair of stairs through the Garden.

Tick. Oh, any way to save my Reputation—oh—

Gal. Let me but once more grasp thee, and thou shalt find more safety in the Devil’s Clutches: none but my Mistress serve ye! [Gropes out after him.

[Pet. with Tick, running over the Stage, Gal. after ‘em, with the Crevat and Perriwig in one Hand, his Pistol in t’other.

Enter Philippa with a Light.

Phil. Mercy upon us! what’s the matter? what Noise is this—hah, a Pistol! what can this mean?

[A Pistol goes off.

Enter Sir Signal running.

Sir Sig. Oh, save me, gentle Devil, save me, the stairs are fortify’d with Cannons and double Culverins; I’m pursu’d by a whole Regiment of arm’d Men! here’s Gold, Gold in abundance, save me.—

Phil. What Cannons? what armed Men?

Sir Sig. Finding my self pursu’d as I was groping my way through the
Hall, and not being able to find the Door, I made towards the stairs
again, at the foot of which I was saluted with a great Gun—a pox of the
Courtesy.

Gal. [Without.] Where are ye, Knight, Buffoon, Dog of Egypt?

Sir Sig. Thunder and Lightning! ‘tis Gallaird’s Voice.

Phil. Here, step behind this Hanging—there’s a Chimney which may shelter ye till the Storm be over,—if you be not smother’d before. [Puts him behind the Arras.

Enter Gal. as before, and Corn, at the other door.

Cor. Heavens! What rude noise is this?

Gal. Where have you hid this Fool, this lucky Fool?
He whom blind Chance, and more ill-judging Woman,
Has rais’d to that Degree of Happiness,
That witty Men must sigh and toil in vain for?

Cor. What Fool, what Happiness?

Gal. Cease, cunning false one, to excuse thy self, See here the Trophies of your shameful Choice, And of my Ruin, cruel—fair Deceiver!

Cor. Deceiver, Sir, of whom? in what despairing minute did I swear to be a constant Mistress? to what dull whining Lover did I vow, and had the heart to break it?

Gal. Or if thou hadst, I know of no such Dog as wou’d believe thee:
No, thou art false to thy own Charms, and hast betray’d them
To the possession of the vilest Wretch
That ever Fortune curst with Happiness;
False to thy Joys, false to thy Wit and Youth:
All which thou’st damn’d with so much careful Industry
To an eternal Fool,
That all the Arts of Love can ne’er redeem thee.

Sir Sig. Meaning me, meaning me.
[Peeping out of the Chimney, his Face blackt.

Cor. A Fool! what Indiscretion have you seen in me, shou’d make ye think I would choose a Witty man for a Lover, who perhaps loves out his Month in pure good Husbandry, and in that time does more Mischief than a hundred Fools. You conquer without Resistance, you treat without Pity, and triumph without Mercy: and when you are gone, the World crys—she had not Wit enough to keep him, when indeed you are not Fool enough to be kept! Thus we forfeit both our Liberties and Discretion with you villanous witty Men: for Wisdom is but good Success in things, and those that fail are Fools.

Gal. Most gloriously disputed! You’re grown a Machivellian in your Art.

Cor. Oh, necessary Maxims only, and the first Politicks we learn from Observation—I have known a Curtezan grown infamous, despis’d, decay’d, and ruin’d, in the Possession of you witty Men, who when she had the luck to break her Chains, and cast her Net for Fools, has liv’d in state, finer than Brides upon their Wedding-day, and more profuse than the young amorous Coxcomb that set her up an Idol.

Sir Sig. Well argued of my side, I see the Baggage loves me!
[Peeping out with a Face more smutted.

Gal. And hast thou? Oh, but prithee jilt me on,
And say thou hast not destin’d all thy Charms
To such a wicked Use.
Is that dear Face and Mouth for Slaves to kiss?
Shall those bright Eyes be gaz’d upon, and serve
But to reflect the Images of Fools?

Sir Sig. That’s I still. [Peeping more black.

Gal. Shall that soft tender Bosom be approacht By one who wants a Soul, to breathe in languishment At every Kiss that presses it?

Sir Sig. Soul! what a pox care I for Soul—as long as my Person is so amiable?

Gal. No, renounce that dull Discretion that undoes thee,
Cunning is cheaply to be wise; leave it to those that have
No other Powers to gain a Conquest by,
It is below thy Charms.
—Come swear, and be foresworn most damnably,
Thou hast not yielded yet; say ‘twas intended only,
And though thou ly’st, by Heaven, I must believe thee;
—Say,—hast thou—given him—all?

Cor. I’ve done as bad, we have discours’d th’ Affair, And ‘tis concluded on.—

Gal. As bad! by Heaven, much worse! discours’d with him!
Wert thou so wretched, so depriv’d of Sense,
To hold Discourse with such an Animal?
Damn it; the Sin is ne’er to be forgiven.
—Hadst thou been wanton to that leud degree,
By dark he might have been conducted to thee;
Where silently he might have serv’d thy purpose,
And thou hadst had some poor excuse for that:
But bartering words with Fools admits of none.

Cor. I grant ye,—had I talk’d sense to him, which had been enough to have lost him for ever.

Sir Sig. Poor Devil, how fearful ‘tis of losing me! [Aside.

Gal. That’s some Atonement for thy other Sins,— Come, break thy Word, and wash it quite away.

Sir Sig. That cogging won’t do, my good Friend, that won’t do.

Gal. Thou shall be just and perjur’d, and pay my Heart the debt of Love you owe it.

Cor. And wou’d you have the Heart—to make a Whore of me?

Gal. With all my Soul, and the Devil’s in’t if I can give thee a greater proof of my Passion.

Cor. I rather fear you wou’d debauch me into that dull slave call’d a Wife.

Gal. A Wife! have I no Conscience, no Honour in me?
Prithee believe I wou’d not be so wicked—
No,—my Desires are generous, and noble,
To set thee up, that glorious insolent thing,
That makes Mankind such Slaves, almighty Curtezan!
—Come, to thy private Chamber let us haste,
The sacred Temple of the God of Love;
And consecrate thy Power.
[Offers to bear her off.

Cor. Stay, do you take me then for what I seem?

Gal. I am sure I do, and wou’d not be mistaken for a Kingdom: But if thou art not, I can soon mend that fault, And make thee so.—Come, I’m impatient to begin the Experiment. [Offers again to carry her off.

Cor. Nay, then I am in earnest,—hold, mistaken Stranger—I am of noble Birth; and shou’d I in one hapless loving Minute destroy the Honour of my House, ruin my Youth and Beauty, and all that virtuous Education my hoping Parents gave me?

Gal. Pretty dissembled Pride and Innocence! And wounds no less than smiles!—Come, let us in,—where I will give thee leave to frown and jilt; such pretty Frauds advance the Appetite. [Offers again.

Cor. By all that’s good, I am a Maid of Quality, Blest with a Fortune equal to my Birth.

Gal. I do not credit thee; or if I did, For once I wou’d dispense with Quality, And to express my Love, take thee with all these Faults.

Cor. And being so, can you expect I’ll yield?

Gal. The sooner for that reason, if thou’rt wise; The Quality will take away the Scandal. Do not torment me longer— [Offers to lead her again.

Cor. Stay and be undeceiv’d,—I do conjure ye.—

Gal. Art thou no Curtezan?

Cor. Not on my life, nor do intend to be.

Gal. No Prostitute? nor dost intend to be?

Cor. By all that’s good, I only feign’d to be so.

Gal. No Curtezan! hast thou deceiv’d me then?
Tell me, thou wicked honest cozening Beauty,
Why didst thou draw me in, with such a fair Pretence,
Why such a tempting Preface to invite,
And the whole Piece so useless and unedifying?
—Heavens! not a Curtezan!
Why from thy Window didst thou take my Vows,
And make such kind Returns? Oh, damn your Quality:
What honest Whore but wou’d have scorn’d thy Cunning?

Cor. I make ye kind Returns?

Gal. Persuade me out of that too; ‘twill be like ye.

Cor. By all my Wishes I never held Discourse with you—but this Evening, since I first saw your Face.

Gal. Oh, the Impudence of Honesty and Quality in Woman!
A plague upon ‘em both, they have undone me!
Bear witness, oh thou gentle Queen of Night,
Goddess of Shades, ador’d by Lovers most;
How oft under thy Covert she has damn’d her self,
With feigned Love to me! [In Passion.

Cor. Heavens! this is Impudence: that Power I call to witness too, how damnably thou injur’st me. [Angry.

Gal. You never from your Window talk’d of Love to me?

Cor. Never.

Gal. So, nor you’re no Curtezan?

Cor. No, by my Life.

Gal. So, nor do intend to be, by all that’s good?

Cor. By all that’s good, never.

Gal. So, and you are real honest, and of Quality?

Cor. Or may I still be wretched.

Gal. So, then farewel Honesty and Quality—’Sdeath, what a Night, what Hopes, and what a Mistress, have I all lost for Honesty and Quality! [Offers to go.

Cor. Stay.—

Gal. I will be rack’d first, let go thy hold!
[In fury.
—Unless thou wou’dst repent.—
[In a soft tone.

Cor. I cannot of my fixt Resolves for Virtue! —But if you could but—love me—honourably— For I assum’d this Habit and this Dress—

Gal. To cheat me of my Heart the readiest way: And now, like gaming Rooks, unwilling to give o’er till you have hook’d in my last stake, my Body too, you cozen me with Honesty.—Oh, damn the Dice—I’ll have no more on’t, I, the Game’s too deep for me, unless you play’d upon the square, or I could cheat like you.— Farewel, Quality— [Goes out.

Cor. He’s gone; Philippa, run and fetch him back; I have but this short Night allow’d for Liberty; Perhaps to morrow I may be a Slave. [Ex. Phil. —Now o’ my Conscience there never came good of this troublesome Virtue— hang’t, I was too serious; but a Devil on’t, he looks so charmingly—and was so very pressing, I durst trust my gay Humour and good Nature no farther. [She walks about, Sir Signal peeps and then comes out.

Sir Sig. He’s gone!—so, ha, ha, ha. As I hope to breathe, Madam, you have nost neatly dispatcht him; poor fool—to compare his Wit and his Person to mine.—

Cor. Hah, the Coxcomb here still.—

Sir Sig. Well, this Countenance of mine never fail’d me yet.

Cor. Ah—

[Looking about on him, sees his face black,
squeaks and runs away.

Sir Sig. Ah, whe, what the Deavilo’s that for?
—Whe, ‘tis I, ‘tis I, most Serenissima Signiora!

[Gal. returns and Philippa.

Gal. What noise is that, or is’t some new design To fetch me back again?

Sir Sig. How! Galliard return’d!

Gal. Hah! what art thou? a Mortal or a Devil?

Sir Sig. How, not know me? now might I pass upon him most daintily for a Devil, but that I have been beaten out of one Devilship already, and dare venture no more Conjurationing.

Gal. Dog, what art thou—not speak! Nay, then I’ll inform my self, and try if you be flesh and blood. [Kicks him, he avoids.

Sir Sig. No matter for all this—’tis better to be kickt than discovered, for then I shall be kill’d: and I can sacrifice a Limb or two to my Reputation at any time.

Gal. Death, ‘tis the Fool, the Fool for whom I am abus’d and jilted? ’.is some revenge to disappoint her Cunning, and drive the Slave before me—Dog! were you her last reserve? [Kicks him, he keeps in his cry.

Sir Sig. Still I say Mum.

Gal. The Ass will still appear through all disguises, Nor can the Devil’s shape secure the Fool— [Kicks him, he runs out, as Cor. enters and holds Gal.

Cor. Hold, Tyrant—

Gal. Oh Women, Women, fonder in your Appetites Than Beasts, and more unnatural! For they but couple with their Kind, but you Promiscuously shuffle your Brutes together, The Fop of business with the lazy Gown-men —the learned Ass with the illiterate Wit—the empty Coxcomb with the Politician, as dull and insignificant as he; from the gay Fool made more a Beast by Fortune to all the loath’d infirmities of Age. Farewel—I scorn to croud with the dull Herd, or graze upon the Common where they fatten. [Goes out.

Phil. I know he loves, by this concern I know it, And will not let him part dissatisfied. [Goes out.

Cor. By all that’s good, I love him more each moment, and know he’s destin’d to be mine.—

[Enter Marcella.

—What hopes, Marcella? what is’t we next shall do?

Mar. Fly to our last reserve; come, let’s haste and dress in that disguise we took our flight from Viterbo in,—and something I resolve.

Cor. My soul informs me what—I ha’t! a Project worthy of us both— which whilst we dress I’ll tell thee,—and by which,

My dear Marcella, we will stand or fall:
‘Tis our last Stake we set; and have at all.

[Exeunt.

ACT V.

SCENE I. The Corso.

Enter Petro, Tickletext, from the Garden.

Tick. Haste, honest Barberacho, before the Day discover us to the wicked World, and that more wicked Galliard.

Pet. Well, Signior, of a bad turn it was a good one, that he took you for Sir Signal! the Scandal lies at his door now Sir,—so the Ladder’s fast, you may now mount and away.—

Tick. Very well, go your ways, and commend me, honest Barberacho, to the young Gentlewoman, and let her know, as soon as I may be certain to run no hazard in my Reputation, I’ll visit her again.

Pet. I’ll warrant ye, Signior, for the future.

Tick. So, now get you gone lest we be discover’d.

Pet. Farewel, Signior, a bon viage. [Ex. Pet. Tick, descends.

Tick. ‘Tis marvellous dark, and I have lost my Lanthorn in the fray! [Groping.] —hah—whereabouts am I—hum—what have we here!—ah, help, help, help! [Stumbles at the Well, gets hold of the Rope, and slides down in the Bucket.] I shall be drown’d, Fire, Fire, Fire! for I have Water enough! Oh, for some House,—some Street; nay, wou’d Rome it-self were a second time in flames, that my Deliverance might be wrought by the necessity for Water: but no human Help is nigh—oh!

Enter Sir Sig. as before.

Sir Sig. Did ever any Knight-Adventurer run through so many Disasters in one night! my worshipful Carcase has been cudgel’d most plentifully, first bang’d for a Coward, which by the way was none of my Fault, I cannot help Nature: then claw’d away for a Diavillo, there I was the Fool; but who can help that too? frighted with Gal’s coming into an Ague; then chimney’d into a Fever, where I had a fine Regale of Soot, a Perfume which nothing but my Cackamarda Orangate cou’d exceell; and which I find by [snuffs] my smelling has defac’d Nature’s Image, and a second time made me be suspected for a Devil.—let me see—[Opens his Lanthorn, and looks on his Hands.] ‘tis so—I am in a cleanly Pickle: if my Face be of the same Hue, I am fit to scare away old Beelzebub himself, i’faith: [Wipes his Face.]—ay, ‘tis so, like to like, quoth the Devil to the Collier: well I’ll home, scrub my self clean if possible, get me to Bed, devise a handsom Lye to excuse my long stay to my Governour, and all’s well, and the Man has his Mare again. [Shuts his Lanthorn and gropes away, runs against the Well.—Quequesto (feels gently.)] Make me thankful ‘tis substantial Wood, by your leave— [Opens his Lanthorn.] How! a Well! sent by Providence that I may wash my self, lest People smoke me by the scent, and beat me a-new for stinking: [Sets down his Lanthorn, pulls of his Masking-Coat, and goes to draw Water.] ‘Tis a damnable heavy Bucket! now do I fancy I shall look, when I am washing my self, like the sign of the Labour-in-vain.

Tick. So, my cry is gone forth, and I am delivered by Miracle from this Dungeon of Death and Darkness, this cold Element of Destruction—

Sir Sig. Hah—sure I heard a dismal hollow Voice.

[Tick. appears in the Bucket above the Well.

Tick. What, art thou come in Charity?

Sir Sig. Ah, le Diavilo, le Diavilo, le Diavilo. [Lets go the Bucket, and is running frighted away.

Enter Fillamour and Page, he returns.

—How, a Man! was ever wretched Wight so miserable, the Devil at one hand, and a Roman Night-walker at the other; which danger shall I chuse? [Gets to the door of the House.

Tick. So, I am got up at last—thanks to my Knight, for I am sure ‘twas he! hah, he’s here—I’ll hear his Business. [Goes near to Fillamour.

Fil. Confound this Woman, this bewitching Woman: I cannot shake her from my sullen Heart; Spite of my Soul I linger hereabouts, and cannot to Viterbo.

Tick. Very good; a dainty Rascal this!

Enter Galliard with a Lanthorn, as from Silvia’s House, held by Philippa.

Fil.—Hah, who’s this coming from her House? Perhaps ‘tis Galliard.

Gal. No Argument shall fetch me back, by Heaven.

Fil. ‘Tis the mad Rogue.

Tick. Oh Lord, ‘tis Galliard, and angry too; now cou’d I but get off, and leave Sir Signal to be beaten, ‘twere a rare project—but ‘tis impossible without discovery.

Phil. But will you hear her, Signior?

Gal. That is, will I lose more time about her? Plague on’t, I have thrown away already such Songs and Sonnets, such Madrigals and Posies, such Night-walks, Sighs, and direful Lovers looks, as wou’d have mollify’d any Woman of Conscience and Religion; and now to be popt i’th’ mouth with Quality! Well, if ever you catch me lying with any but honest well-meaning Damsels hereafter, hang me:—farewel, old Secret, farewel. [Ex. Philippa. —Now am I asham’d of being cozen’d so damnably, Fillamour, that virtuous Rascal, will so laugh at me; s’heart, cou’d I but have debaucht him, we had been on equal terms.—but I must help my self with lying, and swear I have—a—

Fil. You shall not need, I’ll keep your Counsel, Sir.

Gal. Hah—estes vous la?—

Tick. How, Fillamour all this while! some Comfort yet, I am not the only Professor that dissembles: but how to get away—

Gal. Oh Harry, the most damnably defeated!
[A Noise of Swords.

Fil. Hold! what Noise is that? two Men coming this way as from the house of the Curtezans.

Enter Julio backwards, fighting Octavio and Bravoes.

Gal. Hah, on retreating,—S’death, I’ve no Sword!

Fil. Here’s one, I’ll take my Page’s. [Takes the Boy’s Sword.

Gal. Now am I mad for mischief; here, hold my Lanthorn, Boy.

[They fight on Julio’s side, and fight Octavio out at t’other side: Enter Laura and Sabina at the Fore-door, which is the same where Sir Signal stands: Tick. groping up that way, finds Sir Sig. just entring in; Laura and Sab. pass over the Stage.

Sir Sig. Hah, a door open! I care not who it belongs to, ‘tis better dying within Doors like a Man, than in the Street like a Dog. [Going in, Tick. in great fear comes up and pulls him.

Tick. Signior, gentle Signior, whoe’er you are that owns this Mansion, I beseech you to give Protection to a wretched Man half dead with Fear and Injury.

Sir Sig. Nay, I defy the Devil to be more dead with Fear than I— Signior, you may enter, perhaps ‘tis some body that will make an Excuse for us both,—but hark, they return. [Both go in, just after Lau. and Sab. and Silvio enter.

Lau. He’s gone! he’s gone! perhaps for ever gone.—
Tell me, thou silly Manager of Love,
How got this Ruffian in? how was it possible
Without thy Knowledge he cou’d get Admittance?

Sab. Now as I hope to live and learn, I know not, Madam, unless he follow’d you when you let in the Cavalier, which being by dark he easily conceal’d himself; no doubt some Lover of Silvianetta’s, who mistaking you for her, took him too for a Rival.

Lau. ‘Tis likely, and my Fortune is to blame, my cursed Fortune,
Who like Misers deals her scanty Bounties with so slow a hand,
That or we die before the Blessing falls,
Or have it snatcht e’er we can call it ours.
[Raving.]
To have him in my House, to have him kind,
Kind as young Lovers when they meet by stealth;
As fond as Age to Beauty, and as soft
As Love and Wit cou’d make impatient Youth,
Preventing even my Wishes and Desires,
—Oh Gods! and then, even then to be defeated,
Then from my o’erjoy’d Arms to have him snatcht;
Then when our Vows had made our Freedom lawful;
What Maid cou’d suffer a Surprize so cruel?
—The Day begins to break,—go search the Streets,
And bring me news he’s safe, or I am lost.

Enter Gal. Fil. and Jul.

Fil. Galliard, where art thou?

Gal. Here safe, and by thy side.—

Lau. ‘Tis he!

Jul. Whoe’er he were, the Rogue fought like a Fury, and but for your timely Aid I’d been in some Danger.

Fil. But, Galliard, thou wert telling me thy Adventure with Silvianetta; there may be comfort in’t.

Lau. So, now I shall hear with what concern he speaks of me.— [Aside.

Gal. Oh, damn her, damn her!

Lau. Hah!

Gal. The veriest Jilt that ever learnt the Art.

Lau. Heavens!

Gal. Death, the Whore took me for some amorous English elder Brother, and was for Matrimony, in the Devil’s name; thought me a loving Fool, that ne’er had seen so glorious a sight before, and wou’d at any rate enjoy.

Lau. Oh Heaven! I’m amaz’d, how much he differs from the thing he was but a few Minutes since. [Aside.

Gal. And to advance her Price, set up for Quality; nay, swore she was a Maid, and that she did but act the Curtezan.

Lau. Which then he seem’d to give a credit to.—O, the forsworn Dissembler!

Gal. But when I came to the matter then in debate, she was for honourable Love forsooth, and wou’d not yield, no marry wou’d she, not under a Licence from the Parson of the Parish.

Jul. Who was it, prithee? ‘twere a good Deed to be so reveng’d on her.

Gal. Pox on her; no, I’m sure she’s a damn’d Gipsy, for at the same time she had her Lovers in reserve, lay hid her Bed-chamber.

Lau. ‘Twas that he took unkindly, And makes me guilty of that rude Address.

Fil. Another Lover had she?

Gal. Yes, our Coxcomb Knight Buffoon, laid by for a relishing Bit, in case I prov’d not season’d to her Mind.

Lau. Hah, he knew him then.

Gal. But damn her, she passes with the Night, the Day will bring new Objects.

Fil. Oh, do not doubt it, Frank.

Lau. False and Inconstant! Oh, I shall rave, Silvio— [Aside to Sil.

Enter Cornelia in Man’s Clothes with a Letter.

Cor. Here be the Cavaliers: give me, kind Heaven, but hold of him; and if I keep him not, I here renounce my Charms of Wit and Beauty—Signiors, is there a Cavalier amongst ye, call’d Fillamour?

Fil. I own that Name; what wou’d you, Sir?

Cor. Only deliver this, Signior.

[Fil. goes aside, opens his Lanthorn, and reads,
Jul. and Gal. talk aside.

Fil. [Reads.] I’ll only tell you I am Brother to that Marcella whom you have injured, to oblige you to meet me an Hour hence, in the Piazo Despagnia: I need not say with your Sword in your hand, since you will there meet Julio Sebastiano Morosini! —Hah! her Brother sure return’d from Travel. [Aside.

—Signior,—I will not fail to answer it as he desires.
[To Cornelia.
I’ll take this Opportunity to steal off undiscover’d.
[Aside going out.

Cor. So, I’ve done my Sister’s Business; now for my own.

Gal. But, my good Friend, pray what Adventure have you been on to night.

Jul. Faith, Sir, ‘twas like to have prov’d a pleasant one, I came just now from Silvianetta, the fair young Curtezan.

Cor. Hah! what said the Man—came from me! [Aside.

Gal. How, Sir, you with Silvianetta! when?

Jul. Now, all the dear live-long Night.

Cor. A Pox take him, who can this be? [Aside.

Gal. This night! this night! that is not yet departed.

Jul. This very happy Night,—I told you I saw a lovely Woman at St. Peter’s Church.

Gal. You did so.

Jul. I told you too I follow’d her home, but you’d learn neither her Name nor Quality; but my Page getting into the acquaintance of one of hers, brought me News of both; her Name Silvianetta, her Quality a Curtezan.

Cor. I at Church yesterday! now hang me if I had any such devout Thoughts about me: why, what a damn’d scandalous Rascal’s this?

Jul. Fill’d with hopes of Success, at night I made her a Visit, and under her Window had a skirmish with some Rival, who was then serenading her.

Gal. Was’t he that fought us then.—[Aside.— But it seems you were not mistaken in the House— On with your Story pray—Death, I grow jealous now— [Aside.] You came at Night you said?

Jul. Yes, and was receiv’d at the door by the kind Silvianetta, who softly whisper’d me, come to my Bosom, and be safe for ever! and doubtless took me for some happier Man.

Lau. Confusion on him, ‘twas my very Language! [Aside raving.

Jul. Then led me by dark into her Chamber.

Cor. Oh, this damn’d lying Rascal! I do this? [Aside.

Jul. But oh, the things, the dear obliging things, the kind, the fair young Charmer said and did.

Gal. To thee!

Jul. To me.

Gal. Did Silvianetta do this, Silvianetta the Curtezan?

Jul. That passes, Sir, for such, but is indeed of Quality.

Cor. This Stranger is the Devil, how shou’d he know that Secret else?

Jul. She told me too ‘twas for my sake alone, whom from the first Minute she saw she lov’d, she had assum’d that Name and that Disguise, the sooner to invite me.

Lau. ‘Tis plain, the things I utter’d!—Oh, my Heart!

Gal. Curse on the publick Jilt, the very Flattery she wou’d have past on me.

Cor. Pox take him, I must draw on him, I cannot hold. [Aside.

Gal. Was ever such a Whore?

Lau. Oh, that I knew this Man, whom by mistake I lavisht all the Secrets of my Soul to! [Aside.

Jul. I prest for something more than dear Expressions,
And found her yield apace;
But sighing, told me of a fatal Contract,
She was oblig’d to make to one she never saw;
And yet if I wou’d vow to marry her, when she cou’d prove
To merit it, she wou’d deny me nothing.

Lau. ‘Twas I, by Heaven, that heedless Fool was I.

Jul. Which I with Lover’s’ eager Joy perform’d, And on my Knees utter’d the hasty Words, Which she repeated o’er, and gave me back.

Gal. So, he has swallow’d with a vengeance the very Bait she had prepar’d for me, or any body that wou’d bite. [Aside.

Jul. But e’er I cou’d receive the dear Reward of all my Vows,
I was drawn upon by a Man that lay hid in her Chamber;
Whether by chance or design I know not; who fought me out,
And was the same you found me engag’d with.

Cor. A pleasant Rascal this, as e’er the Devil taught his Lesson to.

Gal. So, my Comfort is, she has jilted him too most damnably.

Cor. Slife, I have anger enough to make me valiant; why shou’d I not make use on’t, and beat this lying Villain whilst the Fit holds?

Gal. And you design to keep these Vows, though you’re contracted to another Woman?

Jul. I neither thought of breaking those, or keeping these; My Soul was all employ’d another way.

Lau. It shall be so, Silvio,—I’ve thought upon a way that must redeem all:—hark and observe me. [Takes Sil. and whispers to him.

Jul. But I’m impatient to pursue my Adventure, which I must endeavour to do, before the Light discover the Mistake.—Farewel, Sir. [Ex. Julio.

Gal. Go and be ruin’d quite, she has the Knack of doing it.

Sil. I’ll warrant ye, Madam, for my Part. [Ex. Laura and Sabina.

Gal. I have a damn’d hankering after this Woman: why cou’d I not have put the cheat on her, as Julio has? I stand as little on my Word as he: a good round Oath or two had done the Business.—But a pox on’t, I lov’d too well to be so wise.

[Silvio comes up to him.

Sil. Con licentia, Signior; is your Name Galliard?

Gal. I am the Man, sweet Heart,—let me behold thee—hah—Sans Coeur’s Page!

Sil. A duce of his Lanthorn, what shall I say now?—Softly, Signior, I am that Page whose chiefest Business is to attend my Lord’s Mistress, Sir.

Cor. His Mistress! whose Mistress, what Mistress? S’life, how that little Word has nettled me! [Aside, listening close.

Gal. Upon my Life, the Woman that he boasted of— [Aside, hugging of himself.] —A fair young amorous—noble—Wanton—a—And she wou’d speak with me, my lovely Boy?

Sil. You have prevented the Commands I had; but should my Lord know of it—

Gal. Thou wert undone, I understand thee—
And will be secret as a Confessor,
As lonely Shades, or everlasting Night.
Come, lead the way.

Cor. Where I will follow thee, though to the Bed of her thou’rt going to, and even prevent thy very Business there. [Aside.]

[Exeunt.

SCENE II. A Chamber.

Enter Laura, as before, in a Night-Gown.

Lau. Now for a Power that never yet was known
To charm this Stranger quickly into Love.
Assist my Eyes, thou God of kind Desires;
Inspire my Language with a moving Force,
That may at once gain and secure the Victory.

Enter Silvio.

Sil. Madam, your Lover’s here: your time’s but short; consider too, Count Julio may arrive.

Lau. Let him arrive; having secur’d my self of what I love,
I’ll leave him to complain his unknown Loss
To careless Winds as pitiless as I—Silvio, see the Rooms
Be fill’d with Lights, whilst I prepare my self to entertain him.
Darkness shall ne’er deceive me more—

[Enter to Sil. Gal. gazing about him,
Cor. peeping at the Door.

Gal. All’s wondrous rich,—gay as the Court of Love, But still and silent as the Shades of Death; —Hah—Musick! and excellent! [Soft Musick whilst they speak. Pox on’t—but where’s the Woman?—I need no preparation.—

Cor. No, you are always provided for such Encounters, and can fall to sans Ceremony,—but I may spoil your Stomach. [A Song tuning.

Gal. A Voice too! by Heaven, and ‘tis a sweet one: Grant she be young, and I’ll excuse the rest, Yet vie for Pleasure with the happiest Roman.

[The Song as by Laura, after which soft Musick till she enters.

The SONG by a Person of Quality.

_Farewel the World and mortal Cares,
The ravished Strephon cry’d,
As full of Joy and tender Tears
He lay by Phillis’ side:
Let others toil for Wealth and Fame,
Whilst not one Thought of mine
At any other Bliss shall aim,
But those dear Arms, but those dear Arms of thine.

Still let me gaze in thy bright Eyes,
And hear thy charming Tongue;
I nothing ask t’increase my Joys,
But thus to feel ‘em long.
In close Embraces let us lie,
And spend our Lives to come;
Then let us both together die,
And be each other’s, be each other’s Tomb_.

—Death, I’m fir’d already with her Voice—

Cor. So, I am like to thrive.—

Enter Julio.

Jul. What mean these Lights in every Room, as if to make The day without the Sun, and quite destroy my Hopes!— Hah, Galliard here!

Cor. A Man! grant it some Lover, or some Husband, Heaven, Or any thing that will but spoil the Sport. The Lady! Oh, blast her, how fair she is!

Enter Laura with her Lute, drest in a careless rich Dress, followed by Sabina, to whom she gives her Lute, and Silvio.

Jul. Hah! ‘tis the same Woman.
[She sees Julio and starts.

Lau. A Stranger here! What Art can help me now? [She pauses.

Gal. By all my Joys, a lovely Woman ‘tis.

Lau. Help me, Deceit, Dissembling, all that’s Woman— [She starts and gazes on Gal. pulling Silvio.

Cor. Sure I shou’d know that Face.—

Lau. Ah, look, my Silvio, is’t not he?—it is! That Smile, that Air, that Mien, that Bow is his: ’.is he, by all my Hopes, by all my Wishes.

Gal. He! yes, yes, I am a He, I thank my Stars, And never blest ‘em half so much for being so, As for the dear Variety of Woman.

Cor. Curse on her Charms, she’ll make him love in earnest.

Lau. It is my Brother; and Report was false. [Going towards him.

Gal. How, her Brother! Gad, I’m sorry we are so near akin, with all my Soul; for I’m damnably pleas’d with her.

Lau. Ah, why do you shun my Arms? or are ye Air?
And not to be enclos’d in human Twines—
Perhaps you are the Ghost of that dead Lord,
That comes to whisper Vengeance to my Soul.

Gal. S’heart, a Ghost! This is an odd preparative to Love.
[Aside.

Cor, ‘Tis Laura, my Brother Julio’s Mistress, and Sister to Octavio.

Gal. Death, Madam! do not scare away my Love with Tales of Ghosts, and Fancies of the Dead. I’ll give ye Proofs I’m living loving Man, as errant an amorous Mortal as Heart can wish—I hope she will not jilt me too. [Aside.

Cor. So! he’s at his common Proof for all Arguments; if she shou’d take him at his Word now, and she’ll be sure to do’t.

Lau. Amiable Stranger, pardon the Mistake,
And charge it on a Passion for a Brother:
Devotion was not more retir’d than I,
Vestals or widow’d Matrons when they weep;
Till by a fatal Chance I saw in you,
The dear Resemblance of a murder’d Brother. [Weeps.

Jul. What the Devil can she mean by this? [Aside.

Lau. I durst not trust my Eyes, yet still I gaz’d,
And that encreas’d my Faith you were my Brother:
But since they err’d, and he indeed is dead,
Oh, give me leave to pay you all that Love,
That Tenderness and Passion that was his. [Weeping.

Cor. So, I knew she wou’d bring Matters about some way or other. Oh Mischief, Mischief, help me! S’life, I can be wicked enough when I have no use on’t! and now have, I’m as harmless as a Fool.

[_As Gal. is earnestly talking to Lau. Julio pulls him by the Sleeve.

Lau. Oh, save me, save me from the Murderer.

Jul. Hah!

Gal. A Murderer, where?

Lau. I faint, I die with horror of the Sight!

Gal. Hah—my Friend a Murderer! sure you mistake him, Madam; he saw not Rome till yesterday; an honest Youth, Madam, and one that knows his distance upon occasion!—S’life, how cam’st thou here?—prithee be gone and leave us.

Jul. Why, do you know this Lady, Sir?

Gal. Know her!—a—ay, ay,—Man—and all her Relations, she’s of Quality:—withdraw, withdraw—Madam—a—he is my Friend, and shall be civil.—

Lau. I have an easy Faith for all you say:—but yet however innocent he be, or dear to you, I beg he wou’d depart—he is so like my Brother’s Murderer, that one Look more wou’d kill me—

Jul. A Murderer! charge me with Cowardice, with Rapes or Treasons— Gods, a Murderer!

Cor. A Devil on her, she has robb’d the Sex of all their Arts of Cunning.

Gal. Pox on’t, thou’rt rude; go, in good Manners go.

Lau. I do conjure ye to torture me no more:
If you wou’d have me think you’re not that Murderer,
Be gone, and leave your Friend to calm my Heart
Into some kinder Thoughts.

Gal. Ay, prithee go, I’ll be sure to do thy Business for thee.

Cor. Yes, yes, you will not fail to do a friendly Part, no doubt—

Jul. ‘Tis but in vain to stay—I see she did mistake her Man last night, and ‘twas to Chance I am in debt for that good Fortune;—I will retire to shew my Obedience, Madam. [Exit. Jul. Gal. going to the door with him.

Lau. He’s gone, and left me Mistress of my Wish.
Descend, ye little winged Gods of Love,
Descend and hover round our Bower of Bliss;
Play all in various Forms about the Youth,
And empty all your Quivers at his Heart. [Aside.
[Gal. returns, she takes him by the hand.
—Advance, thou dearer to my Soul than Kindred,
Thou more than Friend or Brother.
Let meaner Souls base-born conceal the God;
Love owns his Monarchy within my Heart,
So Kings that deign to visit humble Roofs,
Enter disguis’d, but in a noble Palace,
Own their great Power, and shew themselves in Glory.

Gal. I am all Transport with this sudden Bliss, And want some kind Allay to fit my Soul for Recompence.

Cor. Yes, yes, my forward Friend, you shall have an Allay, if all my Art can do’t, to damp thee even to Disappointment.

Gal. My Soul’s all Wonder; now let us retire, And gaze till I have softened it to Love. [Going out is met by Cor.

Cor. Madam!

Lau. More Interruption!—hah— [Turns.

Cor. My Master, the young Count Julio—

Lau. Julio!

Gal. What of him? [Aside.

Cor. Being just now arriv’d at Rome—

Lau. Heavens, arriv’d! [Aside.

Cor. Sent me to beg the Honour of waiting on you.

Lau. Sure, Stranger, you mistake.—

Cor. If, Madam, you are Laura Lucretia.—

Gal. Laura Lucretia! by Heaven, the very Woman he’s to marry. [Aside.

Lau. This would surprize a Virgin less resolv’d:
But what have I to do with ought but Love? [Aside.
—And can your Lord imagine this an Hour
To make a ceremonious Visit in?

Gal. Riddles by Love! or is’t some Trick again? [Aside.

Cor. Madam, where Vows are past, the want of Ceremony may be pardon’d.

Lau. I do not use to have my Will disputed, Be gone, and let him know I’ll be obey’d.

Cor. S’life, she’ll out-wit me yet,— [Aside. Madam, I see this Niceness is not general, —You can except some Lovers.

Gal. My pert young Confident, depart, and let your Master know he’ll find a better welcome from the fair vain Curtezan, la Silvianetta, where he has past the Night, and given his Vows.

Lau. Dearly devis’d, and I must take the hint. [Aside smiling.

Cor. He knows me sure, and says all this to plague me. [Aside. My Lord, my Master with a Curtezan! he’s but just now arriv’d.

Gal. A pretty forward saucy lying Boy this; and may do well in time.— Madam, believe him not, I saw his Master yesterday,—convers’d with him. —I know him, he’s my Friend;—’twas he that parted hence but now, he told me all his Passion for a Curtezan scarce half an hour since.

Cor. So!

Lau. I do not doubt it, Oh, how I love him for this seasonable Lye: —And can you think I’ll see a perjur’d Man, [To Cor. Who gives my interest in him to another? —Do I not help ye out most artfully?— [Aside. Laughing to Gal.

Cor. I see they are resolv’d to out-face me.

Gal. Nay, vow’d to marry her.

Lau. Heavens, to marry her!

Cor. To be conquer’d at my own Weapon too!—Lying! ‘tis a hard case.— [Aside.

Gal. Go, Boy, you may be gone; you have you Answer, Child, and may depart—Come, Madam, let us leave him.

Cor. Gone, no help! Death, I’ll quarrel with him,—nay, fight him,— damn him,—rather than lose him thus.—Stay, Signior. [Pulls him.]—You call me Boy—but you may find your self mistaken, Sir,—And know—I’ve that about me may convince ye. [Shewing his Sword. —’Thas done some Execution.

Gal. Prithee, on whom or what? small Village Curs? The barking of a Mastiff wou’d unman thee. [Offers to go.

Cor. Hold—follow me from the Refuge of her Arms; As thou’rt a Man, I do conjure thee do’t:—I hope he will, I’ll venture beating for’t. [Aside.

Gal. Yes, my brisk little Rascal, I will a—a—

Lau. By all that’s good, you shall not stir from hence; ho, who waits there, Antonio, Silvio, Gaspero? [Enter all.] —take that fierce Youth, and bear him from my sight.

Cor. You shall not need; s’life, these rough Rogues will be too hard for me; I’ve one prevention left,—farewel.

May’st thou supply her with as feeble Art,
As I should do, were I to play thy part.

[Goes out with the rest.

Gal. He’s gone, now let’s redeem our blessed Minutes lost.

[Go in.

SCENE III. Changes to the Street.—Piazo d’.ispagnia.

Enter Julio alone.

Jul. Now by this breaking Day-light I cou’d rave: I knew she mistook me last night, which made me so eager to improve my lucky Minutes. Sure, Galliard is not the Man, I long to know the Mystery;—hah—who’s here? —Fillamour!

Enter Fillamour met by Marcella in Man’s Clothes; they pass by each other, cock and justle.

Mar. I take it, you are he I look for, Sir.

Fil. My name is Fillamour.

Mar. Mine, Julio Sebastiano Morosini.

Jul. Hah, my Name, by Heaven! [Aside.

Fil. I doubt it not, since in that lovely Face I see the charming Image of Marcella.

Jul. Hah!

Mar. You might, e’er Travel ruffled me to Man. [Aside. —I shou’d return thy Praise whilst I survey thee, But that I came not here to compliment;—draw— [Draws.

Fil. Why, cause thou’rt like Marcella?

Mar. That were sufficient reason for thy Hate,
But mine’s because thou hast betray’d her basely.
—She told me all the story of her Love,
How well you meant, how honestly you swore,
And with a thousand Tears imploy’d my Aid
To break the Contract she was forc’d to make
T’ Octavio, and give her to your Arms:
I did, and brought you word of our Design,
—I need not tell ye what returns you made;
Let it suffice, my Sister was neglected,
Neglected for a Curtezan,—a Whore;
I watcht, and saw each Circumstance of Falshood.

Jul. Damnation! what means this?

Fil. I scorn to save my Life by Lyes or Flatteries;
But credit me, the Visit that I made
I durst have sworn had been to my Marcella;
Her Face, her Eyes, her Beauty was the same,
Only the business of her Language differ’d,
And undeceiv’d my hope.

Mar. In vain thou think’st to flatter me to Faith,—
When thou’dst my Sister’s Letter in thy hand, which ended that dispute,
Even then I saw with what regret you read it;
What care you took to disobey it too—
The shivering Maid, half dead with fears and terrors of the Night,
In vain expected a Relief from Love or thee.
Draw, that I may return her the glad news I have reveng’d her.

Jul. Hold, much mistaken Youth; ‘tis I am Julio,
Thou, Fillamour, know’st my name, know’st I arriv’d
But yesterday at Rome, and heard the killing News
Of both my Sisters Flights, Marcella and Cornelia,—
And thou art some Imposture. [To Marcella.

Mar. If this now shou’d be true, I were in a fine condition.— [Aside.

Fil. Fled! Marcella fled!

Jul. ‘Twas she I told thee yesterday was lost; But why art thou concern’d?—explain the Mystery.

Fil. I lov’d her more than Life; nay, even than Heaven; And dost thou question my concern for her? Say how, and why, and whither is she fled?

Jul. Oh, wou’d I knew, that I might kill her in her Lover’s Arms; Or if I found her innocent, restore her to Octavio.

Fil. To Octavio! and is my Friendship of so little worth, You cannot think I merit her?

Jul. This is some trick between ‘em; but I have sworn

Most solemnly, have sworn by Heaven and my Honour
To resign her, and I will do’t or die—
Therefore declare quickly, declare where she is,
Or I will leave thee dead upon the place. [To Marcella.

Mar. So, Death or Octavio, a pretty hopeful Choice this!

Fil. Hold! by Heaven, you shall not touch a single hair, thus—will I guard the Secret in his bosom. [Puts himself between ‘em, draws.

Jul. ‘Tis plain thou’st injur’d me,—and to my Honour I’ll sacrifice my Friendship, follow me. [Ex. Jul. Fil.

Enter Petro and Cornelia.

Mar. Ah, Petro, fly, fly, swift and rescue him.— [Ex. Pet. with his Sword in his hand.

Cor. Oh, have I found thee, fit for my purpose too? Come, haste along with me,—thou must present my Brother Julio instantly, or I am lost, and my Project’s lost, and my Man’s lost, and all’s lost.

Enter Petro.

Pet. Victoria, Victoria, your Cavalier’s the Conqueror; the other wounded in his Sword-hand, was easily disarmed.

Mar. Then let’s retire, if I am seen I’m lost;—Petro, stay here for the Cavalier, and conduct him to me to this house;—I must be speedy now.—

Cor. Remember this is Julio. [Pointing to Marcella.

Pet. I know your design, and warrant ye my part:—hah, Octavio [Exeunt.

Enter Octavio, Morosini and Crapine.

Oct. Now, Cowardice, that everlasting Infamy, dwell ever on my face, that Men may point me out that hated Lover that saw his Mistress false, stood tamely by whilst she repeated Vows; nay, was so infamous, so dully tame, to hear her swear her Hatred and Aversion, yet still I calmly listen’d; though my Sword were ready, and did not cut his throat for’t.

Mor. I thought you’d said you’d fought.

Oct. Yes, I did rouze at last, and wak’d my Wrongs;
But like an Ass, a patient Fool of Honour,
I gave him friendly notice I wou’d kill him;
And fought like Prizers, not as angry Rivals.

Mor. Why, that was handsome,—I love fair play; what wou’d you else have done?

Oct. Have fall’n upon him like a sudden Storm, [Enter Pet. and Fill.] quick unexpected in his height of Love:—see—see yonder; or I’m mistaken by this glimmering Day, or that is Fillamour now entering at her door; ’.is he, by my Revenge—What say you, Sir?

Mor. By th’ Mass, I think ‘twas he—

[Enter Julio.

Oct. Julio, I’ve caught the Wantons in their Toil, I have ‘em fast, thy Sister and her Lover. [Embraces him.

Jul. Eternal Shame light on me if they scape then.

Oct. Follow me quick, whilst we can get Admittance.

Jul. Where—here?

Oct. Here,—come all and see her Shame and my Revenge.

Jul. And are you not mistaken in the House?

Oct. Mistaken! I saw the Ravisher enter just now, thy Uncle saw it too; Oh, my excessive Joy! come, if I lye—say I’m a Dog, a Villain.

[Exeunt as into the House.

SCENE IV. Changes to a Chamber.

Enter Sir Signal a little groping.

Sir Sig. There’s no finding my way out,—and now does Fear make me fancy this some inchanted Castle.—

Enter Tick, listening.

Tick. Hah, an inchanted Castle!

Sir Sig. Belonging to a monstrous Giant; who having spirited away the
King of Tropicipopican’s Daughter, keeps her here inclos’d, and that I
a wandring Knight am by fickle Fortune sent to her Deliverance.
[Tick listens.

Tick. How’s that! spirited away the King of Tropicipopican’s Daughter; bless me, what unlawful Wickedness is practis’d in this Romish Heathenish Country! [Aside.

Sir Sig. And yet the Devil of any Dwarf, Squire or Damsel have I met with yet,—wou’d I were cleanlily off this business—hah, Lights, as I live, and People coming this way!—bless me from the Giant!—Oh Lord, what shall I do!— [Falls on his Knees.

Tick. I fear no Giants, having Justice on my Side; but Reputation makes me tender of my Person.—Hah—what’s this, a Curtain; I’ll wind my self in this, it may secure me. [Winds himself in a Window-Curtain.

Sir Sig.—They’re entering, what shall I do?—hah—here’s a Corner; defend me from a Chimney.

[Creeps to the Corner of the Window, and feels a space between Tick’s Legs and the Corner; creeps in, and stands up just behind Tickletext. Enter Gal. leading Laura; Sab. with Lights just after ‘em; Jul. Oct. Mor. and Crap.

Oct. Just in the happy Minute!

Gal. I’ve sworn by every God, by every Power divine, to marry thee, and save thee from the Tyranny of a forc’d Contract.—Nay, Gad, if I lose a fine Wench for want of Oaths this bout, the Devil’s in me.

Oct. What think ye now, Sir?

Jul. Damnation on her, set my Rage at Liberty, That I may kill ‘em both.

[Mor. holds him.

Mor. I see no cause for that, she may be virtuous yet.

Oct. Do ye think as such to pass her off on me, Or that I’ll bear the Infamy of your Family? No, I scorn her now, but can revenge my Honour on a Rival.

Mor. Nay, then I’ll see fair Play,—turn and defend thy Life. [Goes to Gal. who turns.

Jul. Whilst I do Justice on the Prostitute:—hah— Defend me, ‘tis the Woman that I love. [He gazes, she runs to Gal.

Lau. Octavio!

Oct. Laura! My Sister, perfidious shameful— [Offers to kill her.

Jul. Hold, thy Sister this? that Sister I’m to marry.

Lau. Is this then Julio? and do all the Powers conspire to make me wretched?

Oct. May I be dumb for ever.

[Holds his Sword down, and looks sadly; Jul. holds Lau. by one hand, pleads with Oct. with the other.

Enter Fillamour and Pet.

Fil.—Hah, Galliard! in danger too. [Draws, steps to ‘em, Mor. puts between.

Oct. Fillamour here! how now, what’s the matter, Friend? [They talk whilst enter Marcella and Cornelia.

Cor. Hah, new Broils; sure the Devil’s broke loose to night.—my Uncle, as I live! [Mor. pleads between Fil. and Octavio.

Mar. And Octavio! Where shall we fly for Safety?

Cor. I’ll even trust to my Breeches, ‘tis too late to retreat;—s’life, here be our Cavaliers too; nay then, ne’er fear falling into the Enemies hands.

Fil. I, I fled with Marcella! had I been blest with so much Love from her, I wou’d have boasted on’t i’th’ face of Heaven.

Mor. La ye, Sir. [To Octavio.

Fil. The lovely Maid I own I have a Passion for;
But by the Powers above, the Flame was sacred,
And wou’d no more have past the Bounds of Honour
Or Hospitality, than I wou’d basely murder; and were she free,
I wou’d from all the World make her for ever mine.

Mor. Look ye, Sir, a plain case this.

Gal. He tells ye simple truth, Sir.

Oct. Was it not you this scarce past night I fought with here, in the House by dark, just when you had exchanged yours Vows with her?

Lau. Heavens! was it he? [Aside.

Fil. This Minute was the first I ever enter’d here.

Jul. ‘Twas I, Sir, was that interrupted Lover,—and this the Lady.

Lau. And must I yield at last? [Aside.

Oct. Wonders and Riddles!

Gal. And was this the Silvianetta, Sir, you told the Story of? [Slily.

Jul. The same whom Inclination, Friends, and Destiny, conspire to make me blest with.

Gal. So many Disappointments in one night wou’d make a Man turn honest in spite of Nature.

[Sir Sig. peeps from behind.

Sir Sig. Some Comfort yet, that I am not the only Fool defeated. Ha! Galllard!

Oct. I’m satisfy’d (To Fil.)—but what cou’d move you, Sir—[to Gal.] to injure me, one of my Birth and Quality?

Gal. Faith, Sir, I never stand upon Ceremony when there’s a Woman in the case,—nor knew I ‘twas your Sister: Or if I had, I shou’d ha’ lik’d her ne’er the worse for that, had she been kind.

Jul. It is my Business to account with him, And I am satisfy’d he has not injur’d me, he is my Friend.

Gal. That’s frankly said; and uncompell’d, I swear she’s innocent.

Oct. If you’re convinc’d, I too am satisfy’d, And give her to you whilst that Faith continues. [Gives him her.

Lau. And must I, must I force my Heart to yield? And yet his generous Confidence obliges me. [Aside.

Oct. And here I vow by all the sacred Powers, [kneels] That punish Perjury, never to set my Heart On faithless Woman;—never to love nor marry; [Rises] Travel shall be my business—thou my Heir. [To Julio.

Sir Sig. So, poor soul, I’ll warrant he has been defeated too.

Mar. Marcella, Sir, will take ye at your Word.

Fil. Marcella!

Mar. Who owns with Blushes Truths shou’d be conceal’d, but to prevent more Mischief,—That I was yours, Sir, was against my Will, [to Oct.] my Soul was Fillamour’s e’er you claim’d a right in me; though I never saw or held discourse with him, but at an awful distance,—nor knew he of my Flight.

Oct. I do believe, and give thee back my Claim, I scorn the brutal part of Love; the noblest Body, where the Heart is wanting. [They all talk aside, Cornelia comes up to Galliard.

Cor. Why, how now, Cavalier, how like a discarded Favourite do you look now, who whilst your Authority lasted, laid about ye, domineer’d, huft and bluster’d, as if there had been no end on’t: now a Man may approach ye without terror—You see the Meat’s snatcht out of your Mouth, Sir, the Lady’s dispos’d on; whose Friends and Relations you were so well acquainted with.

Gal. Peace, Boy, I shall be angry else.—

Cor. Have you never a cast Mistress, that will take compassion on you: Faith, what think ye of the little Curtezan now?

Gal. As ill as e’er I did; what’s that to thee?

Cor. Much more than you’re aware on, Sir—and faith, to tell you Truth, I’m no Servant to Count Julio, but e’en a little mischievous Instrument she sent hither to prevent your making love to Donna Laura.

Gal. ‘Tis she herself.—how cou’d that Beauty hide itself so long from being known? [Aside.]—Malicious little Dog in a Manger, that wou’d neither eat, nor suffer the Hungry to feed themselves, what spiteful Devil cou’d move thee to treat a Lover thus? but I am pretty well reveng’d on ye.

Cor. On me!

Gal. You think I did not know those pretty Eyes, that lovely Mouth I have so often kist in cold imagination.

Cor. Softly, Tormentor. [They talk aside.

Mar. In this disguise we parted from Viterbo, attended only by Petro and Philippa: At Rome we took the Title and Habit of two Curtezans; both to shelter us from knowledge, and to oblige Fillamour to visit us, which we believ’d he would in curiosity; and yesterday it so fell out as we desired.

Fil. Howe’er my Eyes might be imposed upon, you see my Heart was firm to its first Object; can you forget and pardon the mistake?

Jul. She shall, and with Octavio’s and my Uncle’s leave,—thus make your Title good.— [Gives her to Fil.

Oct. ‘Tis vain to strive with Destiny. [Gives her.

Mor. With all my heart,—but where’s Cornelia all this while?

Gal. Here’s the fair Stragler, Sir. [Leads her to Mor. he holds his Cane up at her.

Mor. Why, thou Baggage, thou wicked Contriver of Mischief, what excuse had’st thou for running away? Thou had’st no Lover.

Cor. ‘Twas therefore, Sir, I went to find one; and if I am not mistaken in the mark, ‘tis this Cavalier I pitch upon for that use and purpose.

Gal. Gad, I thank ye for that,—I hope you’ll ask my leave first, I’m finely drawn in, i’faith—Have I been dreaming all this night of the possession of a new-gotten Mistress, to wake and find my self noos’d to a dull Wife in the morning?

Fil. Thou talk’st like a Man that never knew the Pleasures thou despisest; faith, try it, Frank, and thou wilt hate thy past loose way of living.

Cor. And to encourage a young Setter up, I do here promise to be the most Mistress-like Wife,—You know, Signior, I have learnt the trade, though I had not stock to practise; and will be as expensive, insolent, vain, extravagant and inconstant, as if you only had the keeping part, and another the amorous Assignations. What think ye, Sir?

Fil. Faith, she pleads well, and ought to carry the Cause.

Gal. She speaks Reason, and I’m resolv’d to trust good Nature:—Give me thy dear hand.—

[They all join to give it him, he kisses it.

Mor. And now ye are both sped, pray give me leave to ask ye a civil question; are you sure you have been honest? if you have, I know not by what miracle you have liv’d.

Pet. Oh, Sir, as for that, I had a small stock of Cash in the hands of a couple of English Bankers, one Sir Signal Buffoon—

Sir Sig. Sir Signal Buffoon, what a pox, does he mean me trow?
[Peeping.

Pet.—And one Mr. Tickletext.

Tick. How was that? certo, my Name!

[Peeps out, and both see each other; their faces being close together, one at one side the Curtain, and t’other at t’other.

Gal. and Fil. Ha, ha, ha.

Sir Sig. And have I caught you, i’faith, Mr. Governour? Nay, ne’er put in your head for the matter, here’s none but Friends, mun.

Gal. How now, what have we here?

Sir Sig. Speak of the Devil, and he appears.
[Pulls his Governour forward.

Tick. I am undone,—but, good Sir Signal, do not cry Whore first, as the old Proverb says.

Sir Sig. And good Mr. Governour, as another old Proverb says, do not let the Kettle call the Pot black-arse!—

Fil. How came you hither, Gentlemen?

Sir Sig. Why faith, Sir, divining of a Wedding or two forward, I brought Mr. Chaplain to give you a cast of his Office, as the saying is.

Fil. What, without Book, Mr. Tickletext?

Cor. How now, sure you mistake, these are two Lovers of mine.

Sig Sig. How, Sir, your Lovers! we are none of those, Sir, we are Englishmen.

Gal. You mistake, Sir Signal, this is Silvianetta.

Sir Sig. and Tick. How! [Aside.

Gal. Here’s another Spark of your acquaintance,—do you know him?

Tick. How, Barberacho! nay, then all will out.—

Gal. Yes, and your Fencing and Civility-Master.

Sir Sig. Ay,—Why, what, was it you that pickt our Pockets then, and cheated us?

Gal. Most damnably,—but since ‘twas for the supply of two fair Ladies, all shall be restor’d again.

Tick. Some comfort that.

Fil. Come, let’s in and forgive all; ‘twas but one Night’s Intrigue, in which all were a little faulty.

Sir Sig. And Governour, pray let me have no more Domineering and Usurpation: but as we have hitherto been honest Brothers in Iniquity, so let’s wink hereafter at each others Frailties;

Since Love and Women easily betray Man,
From the grave Gown-man to the busy Lay-man.

EPILOGUE.

Spoken by Mr. Smith.

So hard the times are, and so thin the Town,
Though but one Playhouse, that must too lie down;
And when we fail, what will the Poets do?
They live by us as we are kept by you:
When we disband, they no more Plays will write,
But make Lampoons, and libel ye in spite;
Discover each false Heart that lies within,
Nor Man nor Woman shall in private sin;
The precise whoring Husband’s haunts betray,
Which the demurer Lady to repay,
In his own coin does the just debt defray.
The brisk young Beauty linked to Lands and Age,
Shuns the dull Property and strokes the youthful Page;
And if the Stripling apprehend not soon,
Turns him aside, and takes the brawny Groom;
Whilst the kind Man so true a Husband proves,
To think all’s well done by the thing he loves;
Knows he’s a Cuckold, yet content to bear
Whatever Heaven sends, or Horns or lusty Heir.
Fops of all sorts he draws more artfully,
Than ever on the Stage did Nokes or Leigh:
_And Heaven be prais’d when these are Scarce, each Brother
O’ th’ Pen contrives to set on one another.

These are the effects of angry Poets Rage,
Driven from their Winter-Quarters on the Stage;
And when we go, our Women vanish too,
What will the well-fledg’d keeping Gallant do?
And where but here can he expect to find
A gay young Damsel managed to his mind,
Who ruins him, and yet seems wondrous kind?
One insolent and false, and what is worse,
Governs his Heart, and manages his Purse;
Makes him whatever she’d have him to believe,
Spends his Estate, then learns him how to live?
I hope those weighty Considerations will
Move ye to keep us altogether still;
To treat us equal to our great Desert,
And pay your Tributes with a franker Heart;
If not, th’ aforesaid Ills will come, and we must part_.