ACT IV. SCENE I.
Enter Bellamy, Wildblood, Maskall, in a Visor.
Bel. Here comes one, and in all probability it must be Don Melchor, going to Theodosia.
Mask. Stand close, and you shall see me serve the writ upon him.
Enter Don Melchor.
Wild. Now, Maskall.
Mask. I stayed here, sir, by express order from the lady Aurelia, to deliver you this note; and to desire you, from her, to meet her immediately in the garden.
Mel. Do you hear, friend!
Mask. Not a syllable more, sir; I have performed my orders.
[Mask. retires to his Masters.
Mel. He's gone, and 'tis in vain for me to look after him. What envious devil has discovered to Aurelia that I am in town? It must be Don Lopez, who, to advance his own pretensions to her, has endeavoured to ruin mine.
Wild. It works rarely.
Mel. But I am resolved to see Aurelia; if it be but to defeat him. [Exit Mel.
Wild. Let's make haste after him; I long to see the end of this adventure.
Mask. Sir, I think I see some women coming yonder.
Bel. Well, I'll leave you to your adventures, while I prosecute my own.
Wild. I warrant you have made an assignation to instruct some lady in the mathematics.
Bel. I'll not tell you my design; because, if it does not succeed, you shall not laugh at me.
[Exit Bel.
Enter Beatrix; and Jacintha, in the habit of a Mulatto.
Wild. Let us withdraw a little, and see if they will come this way.
Beat. We are right, madam; 'tis certainly your Englishman, and his servant with him. But, why this second trial, when you engaged to break with him, if he failed in the first?
Jac. 'Tis true, he has been a little inconstant, choleric, or so.
Beat. And it seems you are not contented with those vices, but are searching him for more. This is the folly of a bleeding gamester, who will obstinately pursue a losing hand.
Jac. On t'other side, you would have me throw up my cards, before the game be lost: Let me make this one more trial, when he has money, whether he will give it me; and then, if he fails—
Beat. You'll forgive him again.
Jac. He's already in purgatory; but the next offence shall put him in the pit, past all redemption; pr'ythee sing, to draw him nearer: Sure he cannot know me in this disguise.
Beat. Make haste, then; for I have more irons in the fire: When I have done with you, I have another assignation of my Lady Theodosia's to Don Melchor.
SONG.
Calm was the even, and clear was the sky, And the new-budding flowers did spring, When all alone went Amyntas and I, To hear the sweet nightingale sing: I sate, and he laid him down by me, But scarcely his breath he could draw; For when, with a fear, he began to draw near, He was dashed with, A ha, ha, ha, ha!
Wild. If you dare be the Sylvia, lady, I have brought you a more confident Amyntas, than that bashful gentleman in your song.
[Goes to lay hold of her.
Jac. Hold, hold, sir; I am only an ambassadress sent you from a lady: I hope you will not violate the laws of nations.
Wild. I was only searching for your letters of credence: but methinks, with that beauty, you look more like a herald that comes to denounce war to all mankind.
Jac. One of the ladies in the masque to-night has taken a liking to you; and sent you by me this purse of gold, in recompence of that she saw you lose.
Wild. And she expects in return of it, that I should wait on her: I'll do't,—where lives she? I am desperately in love with her.
Jac. Why, can you love her unknown?
Wild. I have a bank of love, to supply every one's occasions; some for her, some for another, and some for you; charge what you will upon me, I pay all at sight, and without questioning who brought the bill.
Jac. Hey-day! you dispatch your mistresses as fast, as if you meant to o'er-run all womankind: Sure you aim at the universal-monarchy.
Wild. Now I think on't, I have a foolish fancy to send the lady a taste of my love by thee.
Jac. 'Tis impossible your love should be so humble, to descend to a mulatto.
Wild. One would think so, but I cannot help it. Gad, I think the reason is, because there's something more of sin in thy colour than in ours. I know not what's the matter, but a turkey-cock is not more provoked at red, than I bristle at the sight of black. Come, be kinder to me. Young, and slip an opportunity? 'Tis an evening lost out of your life.
Jac. These fine things you have said over a thousand times; your cold compliment's the cold pye of love, which you serve up to every guest whom you invite.
Wild. Come; because thou art very moving, here's part of the gold, which thou brought'st to corrupt me for thy lady: Truth is, I had promised a sum to a Spanish lady; but thy eyes have allured it from me.
Jac. You'll repent it to-morrow.
Wild. Let to-morrow starve, or provide for himself, as to-night has done: To-morrow is a cheat in love, and I will not trust it.
Jac. Ay, but heaven, that sees all things——
Wild. Heaven, that sees all things, will say nothing: That is all eyes, and no tongue; Et la lune, et les estoiles,—you know the song.
Jac. A poor slave, as I am——
Wild. It has been always my humour to love downward. I love to stoop to my prey, and to have it in my power to souse at, when I please. When a man comes to a great lady, he is fain to approach her with fear and reverence; methinks there's something of godliness in't.
Jac. Yet I cannot believe, but the meanness of my habit must needs scandalize you.
Wild. I tell thee, my friend, and so forth, that I exceedingly honour coarse linen; 'tis as proper sometimes in an under garment, as a coarse towel is to rub and scrub me.
Jac. Now I am altogether of the other side; I can love no where but above me: Methinks the rattling of a coach and six sounds more eloquently than the best harangue a wit could make me.
Wild. Do you make no more esteem of a wit then?
Jac. His commendations serve only to make others have a mind to me; he does but say grace to me like a chaplain, and, like him, is the last that shall fall on. He ought to get no more by it, than a poor silk-weaver does by the ribband which he works, to make a gallant fine.
Wild. Then what is a gentleman to hope from you?
Jac. To be admitted to pass my time with, while a better comes: To be the lowest step in my staircase, for a knight to mount upon him, and a lord upon him, and a marquis upon him, and a duke upon him, till I get as high as I can climb.
Wild. For aught I see, the great ladies have the appetites, which you slaves should have; and you slaves the pride, which ought to be in ladies. For, I observe, that all women of your condition are like women of the play-house, still picking at each other, who shall go the best dressed, and the richest habits; till you work up one another by your high flying, as the heron and jerfalcon do. If you cannot out-shine your fellow with one lover, you fetch her up with another: And, in short, all you get by it is only to put finery out of countenance; and to make the ladies of quality go plain, because they will avoid the scandal of your bravery.
Beat. [Running in.] Madam, come away; I hear company in the garden.
Wild. You are not going?
Jac. Yes, to cry out a rape, if you follow me.
Wild. However, I am glad you have left your treasure behind you: Farewell, fairy!
Jac. Farewell, changeling!—Come, Beatrix.
[Exeunt Women.
Mask. Do you know how you came by this money, sir? You think, I warrant, that it came by fortune.
Wild. No, sirrah, I know it came by my own industry. Did not I come out diligently to meet this gold, in the very way it was to come? What could fate do less for me? They are such thoughtless, and undesigning rogues as you, that make a drudge of poor Providence, and set it a shifting for you. Give me a brave fellow like myself, that, if you throw him down into the world, lights every where upon his legs, and helps himself without being beholden to fate, that is the hospital of fools.
Mask. But, after all your jollity, what think you if it was Jacintha that gave it you in this disguise? I am sure I heard her call Beatrix as she went away.
Wild. Umh! thou awaken'st a most villainous apprehension in me! methought, indeed, I knew the voice: but the face was such an evidence against it! if it were so, she is lost for ever.
Mask. And so is Beatrix.
Wild. Now could I cut my throat for madness.
Mask. Now could I break my neck for despair, if I could find a precipice absolutely to my liking.
Wild. 'Tis in vain to consider on't. There's but one way; go you, Maskall, and find her out, and invent some excuse for me, and be sure to beg leave I may come and wait upon her with the gold, before she sleeps.
Mask. In the mean time you'll be thinking at your lodging.
Wild. But make haste then to relieve me; for I think over all my thoughts in half an hour.
[Exit Mask.
Wild. [Solus.] Hang it! now I think on't, I shall be but melancholic at my lodging; I'll go pass my hour at the gaming-house, and make use of this money while I have tools, to win more to it. Stay, let me see,—I have the box and throw. My Don he sets me ten pistoles; I nick him: Ten more, I sweep them too. Now, in all reason, he is nettled, and sets me twenty: I win them too. Now he kindles, and butters me with forty. They are all my own: In fine, he is vehement, and bleeds on to fourscore or an hundred; and I, not willing to tempt fortune, come away a moderate winner of two hundred pistoles.