ACT V.
SCENE I. A Garden.
Enter Francisco alone.
Fran. Now am I afraid to walk in this Garden, lest I shou’d spy my own natural Wife lying with the Great Turk in Fresco, upon some of these fine fiowry Banks, and learning how to make Cuckolds in Turkey.
Enter Guzman and Jacinta.
Guz. Nay, dear Jacinta, cast an eye of pity on me.—What, deny the Vizier Bassa?
Jac. When you are honest Guzman again, I’ll tell you a piece of my mind.
Guz. But opportunity will not be kind to Guzman, as to the Grand Bassa; therefore, dear Rogue, let’s retire into these kind shades, or, if foolish Virtue be so squeamish, and needless Reputation so nice, that Mr. Vicar must say Amen to the bargain, there is an old lousy Frier, belonging to this Villa, that will give us a cast of his Office; for I am a little impatient about this business, Greatness having infus’d a certain itch in my Blood, which I felt not whilst a common Man.
Fran. Um, why, what have we here, pert Mrs. Jacinta and the Bassa? I hope the Jade will be Turkefied with a vengeance, and have Circumcision in abundance; and the Devil shall ransom her for old Francisco.
Jac. Hah, the old Gentleman!
Fran. What, the Frolick is to go round, I see, you Women have a happy time on’t.
Guz. Men that have kind Wives may be as happy; you’ll have the honour of being made a Cuckold, Heaven be prais’d.
Fran. Ay, Sir, I thank ye,—pray, under the Rose, how does my Wife please his Grace the Great Turk?
Guz. Murmuring again, thou Slave.
Fran. Who, I? O Lord, Sir! not I, why, what hurt is there in being a Cuckold?
Guz. Hurt, Sirrah, you shall be swinged into a belief, that it is an honour for the Great Turk to borrow your Wife.
Fran. But for the Lender to pay Use-money, is somewhat severe;—but, see, he comes,—bless me, how grim he looks!
Enter Carlos, and Mutes attending.
Car. Come hither, Slave,—why, was it that I gave you Life? dismiss’d the Fetters from your aged Limbs?
Fran. For love of my Wife, and’t please your Barbarousness.
Car. Gave you free leave to range the Palace round, excepting my Apartment only?
Fran. Still for my Wife’s sake, I say, and’t like your Hideousness.
Car. And yet this Wife, this most ungrateful Wife of yours, again wou’d put your Chains on, expose your Life to Dangers and new Torments, by a too stubborn Virtue, she does refuse my Courtship, and foolishly is chaste.
Fran. Alas! what pity’s that!
Car. I offer’d much, lov’d much, but all in vain; Husband and Honour still was the reply.
Fran. Good lack! that she shou’d have no more Grace before her Eyes.
Car. But, Slave, behold these Mutes; that fatal Instrument of Death behold too, and in ‘em read thy doom, if this coy Wife of yours be not made flexible to my Addresses.
Fran. O Heavens! I make her.
Car. No more, thy Fate is fix’d—and, here attend, till he himself deliver his willing Wife into my Arms; Bassa, attend, and see it be perform’d— [To his Mutes, then to Guz. [Ex. Car.
Guz. Go, one of you, and fetch the fair Slave hither.
[Ex. Turk.
Fran. I pimp for my own Wife! I hold the door to my own Flesh and Blood! monstrum horrendum!
Guz. Nay, do’t, and do’t handsomly too, not with a snivelling Countenance, as if you were compell’d to’t; but with the face of Authority, and the awful command of a Husband—or thou dyest.
Enter Turk and Julia.
Fran. My dear Julia, you are a Fool, my Love.
Jul. For what, dear Husband?
Fran. I say, a silly Fool, to refuse the Love of so great a Turk; why, what a Pox makes you so coy? [Angrily.
Jul. How! this from you, Francisco.
Fran. Now does my Heart begin to fail me; and yet I shall ne’er endure strangling neither; why, am not I your Lord and Master, hah?
Jul. Heavens! Husband, what wou’d you have me do?
Fran. Have you do;—why, I wou’d have ye—d’ye see—’twill not out; why, I wou’d have ye lie with the Sultan, Huswife; I wonder how the Devil you have the face to refuse him, so handsom, so young a Lover; come, come, let me hear no more of your Coyness, Mistress, for if I do, I shall be hang’d; [Aside. The Great Turk’s a most worthy Gentleman, and therefore I advise you to do as he advises you; and the Devil take ye both. [Aside.
Jul. This from my Husband, old Francisco! he advise me to part with my dear Honour.
Fran. Rather than part with his dear Life, I thank ye. [Aside.
Jul. Have you considered the Virtue of a Wife?
Fran. No, but I have considered the Neck of a Husband. [Aside.
Jul. Which Virtue, before I’ll lose, I’ll die a thousand Deaths.
Fran. So will not I one; a Pox of her Virtue,—these Women are always virtuous in a wrong place. [Aside. I say you shall be kind to the sweet Sultan.
Jul. And rob my Husband of his right!
Fran. Shaw, Exchange is no Robbery.
Jul. And forsake my Virtue, and make nown Dear a Cuckold.
Fran. Shaw, most of the Heroes of the World were so;—go, prithee, Hony, go, do me the favour to cuckold me a little, if not for Love, for Charity.
Jul. Are you in earnest?
Fran. I am.
Jul. And would it not displease you?
Fran. I say, no; had it been Aquinius his Case, to have sav’d the pinching of his Gullet he wou’d have been a Cuckold. [Aside.
Jul. Fear has made you mad, or you’re bewitcht; and I’ll leave you to recover your Wits again. [Going out.
Fran. O gracious Wife, leave me not in despair; [Kneels to her and holds her.] I’m not mad, no, nor no more bewitcht than I have been these forty years; ‘tis you’re bewitcht to refuse so handsom, so young, and so—a Pox on him, she’ll ne’er relish me again after him. [Aside.
Jul. Since you’ve lost your Honour with your wits, I’ll try what mine will do.
Enter Carlos, Turks.
Fran. Oh, I am lost, I’m lost—dear Wife,—most mighty Sir, I’ve brought her finely to’t—do not make me lose my credit with his Mahometan Grace,—my Wife has a monstrous Affection for your Honour, but she’s something bashful; but when alone your Magnanimousness will find her a swinger.
Car. Fair Creature—
Jul. Do you believe my Husband, Sir? he’s mad.
Car. Dog. [Offers to kill him.
Fran. Hold, mighty Emperor; as I hope to be saved, ‘tis but a copy of her Countenance—inhuman Wife—lead her to your Apartment, Sir! barbarous honest Woman,—to your Chamber, Sir,—wou’d I had married thee an errant Strumpet; nay, to your Royal Bed, Sir, I’ll warrant you she gives you taunt for taunt: try her, Sir, try her. [Puts ‘em out.
Jac. Hark you, Sir, are you possest, or is it real reformation in you? what mov’d this kind fit?
Fran. E’en Love to sweet Life; and I shall think my self ever obliged to my dear Wife, for this kind Reprieve;—had she been cruel, I had been strangled, or hung in the Air like our Prophet’s Tomb.
Enter First Turk.
Turk. Sir, boast the honour of the News I bring you.
Fran. Oh, my Head! how my Brows twinge.
Turk. The mighty Sultan, to do you honour, has set your Daughter and her Lover free, ransomless;—and this day gives ‘em liberty to solemnize the Nuptials in the Court;—but Christian Ceremonies must be private; but you’re to be admitted, and I’ll conduct you to ‘em.
Fran. Some Comfort, I shall be Father to a Viscount, and for the rest—Patience—
All Nations Cuckolds breed, but I deny
They had such need of Cuckolding as I.
[Goes out with the Turk.
Enter Antonio, and Clara to Jacinta.
Jac. Madam, the rarest sport—Ha, ha, ha.
Ant. You need not tell us, we have been witness to all. But to our own Affairs, my dearest Clara, Let us not lose this blessed opportunity, Which Art nor Industry can give again if this be idly lost.
Cla. Nay, hang me if it be my fault, Antonio: Charge it to the number of your own Sins; it shall not lie at my door.
Ant. ‘Tis generously said, and take notice, my little dear Virago, Guzman has a Priest ready to tie you to your word.
Cla. As fast as you please; hang her that fears the conjuring knot for me: But what will our Fathers say—mine who expects me to be the Governor’s Lady; and yours, who designs Isabella for a Daughter-in-Law?
Ant. Mine will be glad of the Change; and, for yours, if he be not pleased, let him keep his Portion to himself—that’s the greatest mischief he can do us: and for my Friend, the Governor, he’s above their Anger.
Cla. Why do we lose precious time? I long to be at—I Clara take thee Antonio,—the very Ceremony will be tedious, so much I wish thee mine; and each delay gives me a fear something will snatch me from thee.
Ant. No power of Man can do’t, thou art so guarded; but now the Priest is employed in clapping up the honourable Marriage between the False Count and Isabella.
Jac. Lord, what a jest ‘twill be to see ‘em coupled, ha, ha.
Cla. Unmerciful Antonio, to drive the Jest so far; ‘tis too unconscionable!
Ant. By Heaven, I’m so proud I cannot think my Revenge sufficient for Affronts, nor does her Birth, her Breeding and her Vanity—deserve a better Fortune; besides,—he has enough to set up for a modern Spark— the Fool has just Wit and good Manners to pass for a Fop of Fashion; and, where he is not known, will gain the Reputation of a fine accomplish’d Gentleman,—yet I’m resolved she shall see him in his Geers, in his original Filthiness, that my Revenge may be home upon the foolish Jilt.
Cla. Cruel Antonio, come, lets go give ‘em Joy.
Ant. And finish our Affair with Mr. Vicar.
Enter Isabella, her Train borne by the great Page, Guiliom, with the other great Page, and Francisco bare.
—Joy to my noble Lord, and you, fair Isabella!
Isa. Thank thee, Fellow,—but, surely, I deserved my Titles from thee.
Cla. Your Honour I hope will pardon him.
Isa. How now, Clara! [Nodding to her.
Jac. I give your Honour joy.
Isa. Thank thee, poor Creature.—
Fran. My Lord, this Honour you have done my Daughter is so signal, that whereas I designed her but five thousand Pound, I will this happy day settle on her ten.
Guil. Damn dirty trash, your Beauty is sufficient—hum —Signior Don Antonio, get the Writings ready. [Aside. Money—hang Money.
Fran. How generous these Lords are; nay, my Lord, you must not refuse a Father’s Love, if I may presume to call you Son—I shall find enough besides for my Ransom, if the Tyrant be so unmerciful to ask more than my Wife pays him.
Guil. Nay, if you will force it upon me.
Isa. Ay, take it, the trifling sum will serve to buy our Honour Pins.
Ant. Well, Sir, since you will force it on him, my Cashier shall draw the Writings.
Guil. And have ‘em signed by a publick Notary. [Aside.
Fran. With all my Soul, Sir, I’ll go to give him order, and subscribe. [Ex. Francisco.
Guil. Let him make ‘em strong and sure—you shall go halves. [Aside.
Ant. No, you will deserve it dearly, who have the plague of such a Wife with it;—but harkye, Count—these goods of Fortune are not to be afforded you, without Conditions.
Guil. Shaw, Conditions, any Conditions, noble Antonio.
Ant. You must disrobe anon, and do’n your native Habiliments—and in the Equipage give that fair Viscountess to understand the true quality of her Husband.
Guil. Hum—I’m afraid, ‘tis a harder task to leap from a Lord to a Rogue, than ‘tis from a Rogue to a Lord.
Ant. Not at all, we have examples of both daily.
Guil. Well, Sir, I’ll show you my agility—but, Sir, I desire I may consummate, d’ye see,—consummate—a little like a Lord, to make the Marriage sure.
Ant. You have the Freedom to do so—the Writings I’ll provide.
Guil. I’ll about it then, the Priest waits within for you, and Guzman for you, Jacinta,—haste, for he is to arrive anon Ambassador from Cadiz.
Jac. I know not, this noise of Weddings has set me agog, and I’ll e’en in, and try what ‘tis.
[Ex. Antonio, Clara, and Jacinta.
Guil. Come, Madam, your Honour and I have something else to do, before I have fully dub’d you a Viscountess.
Isa. Ah, Heav’ns, what’s that?
Guil. Why a certain Ceremony, which must be performed between a pair of Sheets,—but we’ll let it alone till Night.
Isa. Till Night, no; whate’er it be, I wou’d not be without an Inch of that Ceremony, that may compleat my Honour for the World; no, for Heaven’s sake, let’s retire, and dub me presently.
Guil. Time enough, time enough.
Isa. You love me not, that can deny me this.
Guil. Love—no, we are married now, and People of our Quality never Love after Marriage; ‘tis not great.
Isa. Nay, let’s retire, and compleat my Quality, and you will find me a Wife of the Mode, I’ll warrant you.
Guil. For once you have prevail’d.
Enter Francisco.
Fran. Whither away?
Isa. Only to consummate a little, pray keep your distance. [She pulls off his hat.
Fran. Consummate!
Isa. Ay, Sir, that is to make me an absolute Viscountess—we cannot stay—farewel. [Guiliom leads her out.
Fran. Hum—this Turkey Air has a notable faculty, where the Women are all plaguy kind.
Enter Carlos and Julia.
Car. By Heav’n, each Moment makes me more your Slave.
Fran. The Business is done.
Jul. My Husband! [Aside.
Car. And all this constant love to old Francisco has but engaged me more.
Fran. Ha, Love to me? [Aside.
Jul. Sir, if this Virtue be but real in you, how happy I shou’d be; but you’ll relapse again, and tempt my virtue, which if you do—
Fran. I’ll warrant she wou’d kill herself. [Aside.
Jul. I should be sure to yield. [In a soft tone to him.
Car. No, thou hast made an absolute Conquest o’er me—and if that Beauty tempt me every hour, I shall still be the same I was the last.
Fran. Pray Heaven he be John.
Enter First Turk.
1st Turk. Most mighty Emperor, a Messenger from Cadiz has Letters for your Highness.
Car. Conduct him in; in this retreat of ours we use no State.
Enter Guzman, as himself, gives Carlos Letters.
Guz. Don Carlos, Governor of Cadiz, greets your Highness.
Carlos reads.
High and Mighty,
For seven Christian Slaves, taken lately by a Galley of yours, we offer you twice the number of Mahometans taken from you by us. —If this suffice not,—propose your Ransoms, and they shall be paid by Don Carlos, Governor of Cadiz.
—Know you this Carlos offers so fair for you?
Fran. Most potent Lord, I do, and wonder at the Compliment,—and yet I am not jealous—I have so overacted the complaisant Husband, that I shall never fall into the other Extreme again.
Car. Go, let the Christian Governor understand his Request is granted.
Guz. The Slaves are ready, Sir, and a Galley to carry off the Christians.
Jul. How shall we make this Governor amends?
Fran. I do even weep for joy; alas, I must leave it to thee, Love.
Jul. To me, Sir? do you mock me?
Fran. Mock thee! no; I know thy Virtue, and will no more be jealous, believe me, Chicken, I was an old Fool.
Car. Your Wife is chaste—she overcame my unruly Passion with her Prayers and Tears.
Enter Isabella at one door; Clara, Antonio, Jacinta,
at another; Isabella’s Train carried up.
Fran. Rare News,—we are all free and ransom’d! All’s well, and the Man has his Mare again.
Isa. You still forget your Duty and your Distance.
Fran. A pox of your troublesom Honour; a man can’t be overjoy’d in quiet for’t.
Enter Baltazer and Sebastian.
Seb. Sure, I am not mistaken, this is the House of my Son Antonio.
Bal. Let it be whose house ‘twill, I think the Devil’s broke loose in’t.
Seb.—Or the Turks; for I have yet met with ne’er a Christian thing in’t.
Fran. Hah,—do I dream, or is that my Father-in-law, and Signior Sebastian?
Ant. My Father here?
Car. Baltazer! [Aside.
Bal. Son Francisco, why do you gaze on me so?
Fran. Bless me, Sir, are you taken by the Great Turk too?
Bal. Taken,—Great Turk,—what do mean?
Fran. Mean, Sir! why, how the Devil came you into Turkey?
Bal. Sure, Jealousy has crack’d his brains.
Fran. Crack me no Cracks, good Father mine;—am not I a Slave in Turkey? and is not this the Grand Seignior’s Palace?
Car. So,—all will come out, there’s no prevention. [Aside.
Seb. Some that are wiser answer us: You, Son,—are you infected too?—was not yesterday to have been your Wedding-day?
Ant. To day has done as well, Sir, I have only chang’d Isabella for Clara.
Seb. How, Francisco, have you juggled with me?
Fran. My Daughter’s a Lady, Sir.
Bal. And you, Mistress, you have married Antonio, and left the Governor.
Cla. I thought him the fitter Match, Sir, and hope your Pardon.
Jul. We cannot scape.
Fran. But how came you hither, Gentlemen, how durst you venture?
Seb. Whither, Sir, to my own Son’s house; is there such danger in coming a mile or two out of Cadiz?
Fran. Is the Devil in you, or me, or both? Am not I in the Possession of Turks and Infidels?
Bal. No, Sir; safe in Antonio Villa, within a League of Cadiz.
Fran. Why, what a Pox, is not this the Great Turk himself?
Bal. This, Sir,—cry mercy, my Lord,—’tis Don Carlos, Sir, the Governor.
Fran. The Governor! the worst Great Turk of all; so, I am cozened, —most rarely cheated; why, what a horrid Plot’s here carried on, to bring in heretical Cuckoldom?
Car. Well, Sir, since you have found it out, I’ll own my Passion.
Jul. Well, if I have been kind you forced me to’t, nay, begged on your knees, to give my self away.
Fran. Guilty, guilty, I confess,—but ‘twas to the Great Turk, Mistress, not Don Carlos.
Jul. And was the Sin the greater?
Fran. No, but the Honour was less.
Bal. Oh horrid! What, intreat his Wife to be a Whore?
Car. Sir, you’re mistaken, she was my Wife in sight of Heaven before; and I but seiz’d my own.
Fran. Oh,—Sir, she’s at your Service still.
Car. I thank you, Sir, and take her as my own.
Bal. Hold, my Honour’s concerned.
Fran. Not at all, Father mine, she’s my Wife, my Lumber now, and, I hope, I may dispose of my Goods and Chattels—if he takes her we are upon equal terms, for he makes himself my Cuckold, as he has already made me his;—for, if my memory fail me not, we did once upon a time consummate, as my Daughter has it.
Enter Guiliom in his own dress; crying Chimney-Sweep.
Guil. Chimney-sweep,—by your leave, Gentlemen.
Ant. Whither away, Sirrah?
Guil. What’s that to you, Sir?—
Ant. Not to me, Sirrah;—who wou’d you speak with?
Guil. What’s that to you, Sir? why, what a Pox, may not a man speak with his own Lady and Wife?
Cla. Heavens! his Wife! to look for his Wife amongst Persons of Quality!
Car. Kick out the Rascal.
Guil. As soon as you please, my Lord; but let me take my Wife along with me. [Takes Isa. by the hand.
Isa. Faugh! what means the Devil?
Guil. Devil; ‘twas not long since you found me a human creature within there.
Isa. Villain, Dog; help me to tear his Eyes out.
Guil. What, those Eyes, those lovely Eyes, that wounded you so deeply?
Fran. What’s the meaning of all this? why, what, am I cozen’d? and is my Daughter cozen’d?
Guil. Cozen’d! why, I am a Man, Sir.
Fran. The Devil you are, Sir, how shall I know that?
Guil. Your Daughter does, Sir; and that’s all one.
Isa. Oh! I’m undone; am I no Viscountess then.
Guil. Hang Titles; ‘twas my self you lov’d, my amiable sweet and charming self: In fine, sweet-heart, I am your Husband; no Viscount, but honest Guiliom, the Chimney-sweeper.—I heard your Father design’d to marry you to a Tradesman, and you were for a Don; and to please you both, you see how well I have managed matters.
Fran. I’ll not give her a farthing.
Guil. No matter, her Love’s worth a million; and, that’s so great, that I’m sure she’ll be content to carry my Soot basket after me.
Isa. Ah! I die, I die.
Guil. What, and I so kind? [Goes and kisses her, and blacks her face.
Isa. Help! murder, murder!
Guil. Well, Gentlemen, I am something a better fortune than you believe me, by some thousands. [Shows Car. his Writings.
Car. Substantial and good! faith, Sir, I know not where you’ll find a better fortune for your Daughter, as cases stand. [To Francisco.
Guil. And, for the Viscount, Sir, gay Clothes, Money and Confidence will set me up for one, in any ground in Christendom.
Car. Faith, Sir, he’s i’th’ right; take him home to Sevil, your Neighbours know him not, and he may pass for what you please to make him; the Fellow’s honest, witty and handsom.
Fran. Well, I have considered the matter: I was but a Leather-seller my self, and am grown up to a Gentleman; and, who knows but he, being a Chimney-sweeper, may, in time, grow up to a Lord? Faith, I’ll trust to Fortune, for once—here—take her and rid me of one Plague, as you, I thank you, Sir, have done of another. [To Carlos.
Guil. Prithee be pacified, thou shalt see me within this hour as pretty a fluttering Spark as any’s in Town.—My noble Lord, I give you thanks and joy; for, you are happy too.
Car. As Love and Beauty can make me.
Fran. And I, as no damn’d Wife, proud Daughter, or tormenting Chamber-maid can make me.
Ant. And I, as Heaven and Clara can. —You base-born Beauties, whose ill-manner’d Pride, Th’industrious noble Citizens deride. May you all meet with Isabella’s doom.
Guil. —And all such Husbands as the Count Guiliome.
EPILOGUE.
Spoken by Mrs. Barry, made by a Person of Quality.
_I Come not a Petitioner to sue,
This Play the Author has writ down to you;
’.is a slight Farce, five Days brought forth with ease,
So very foolish that it needs must please;
For though each day good Judges take offence, |
And Satir arms in Comedy’s defence, |
You are still true to your Jack-Pudding Sense. |
No Buffoonry can miss your Approbation,
You love it as you do a new_ French Fashion:
Thus in true hate of Sense, and Wit’s despite,
Bantring and Shamming is your dear delight.
Thus among all the Folly’s here abounding,
None took like the new Ape-trick of Dumfounding.
If to make People laugh the business be, |
You Sparks better Comedians are than we; |
You every day out-fool ev’n Nokes and Lee. |
They’re forc’d to stop, and their own Farces quit,
T’admire the Merry-Andrews of the Pit;
But if your Mirth so grate the Critick’s ear,
Your Love will yet more Harlequin appear.
—You everlasting Grievance of the Boxes,
You wither’d Ruins of stum’d Wine and Poxes;
What strange Green-sickness do you hope in Women
Should make ‘em love old Fools in new Point Linen?
The Race of Life you run off-hand too fast,
Your fiery Metal is too hot to last;
Your Fevers come so thick, your Claps so plenty,
Most of you are threescore at five and twenty.
Our Town-bred Ladys know you well enough,
Your courting Women’s like your taking Snuff;
Out of mere Idleness you keep a pother,
You’ve no more need of one than of the other.
Ladies—
Wou’d you be quit of their insipid noise,
And vain pretending take a Fool’s advice;
Of the faux Braves I’ve had some little trial,
There’s nothing gives ‘em credit but Denial:
As when a Coward will pretend to Huffing,
Offer to fight, away sneaks Bully-Ruffian,
So when these Sparks, whose business is addressing,
In Love pursuits grow troublesom and pressing;
When they affect to keep still in your eye, |
When they send Grisons _every where to spy, |
And full of Coxcomb dress and ogle high; |
Seem to receive their Charge, and face about,
I’ll pawn my life they never stand it out.