ACT THE FIFTH.
SCENE I.—St. James's Park.
Enter Dapperwit and Sir Simon Addleplot, the latter leading Mrs. Martha.
Sir Sim. At length you see I have freed the captive lady for her longing knight, Mr. Dapperwit:—who brings off a plot cleverly now?
Dap. I wish our poets were half so good at it.—Mrs. Martha, a thousand welcomes! [Dapperwit kisses and embraces Mrs. Martha.
Sir Sim. Hold, hold, sir: your joy is a little too familiar, faith and troth!
Dap. Will you not let me salute Mrs. Martha?
Mrs. Mar. What, Jonas, do you think I do not know good breeding? must I be taught by you?
Sir Sim. I would have kept the maidenhead of your lips for your sweet knight, Mrs. Martha, that's all; I dare swear you never kissed any man before but your father.
Mrs. Mar. My sweet knight, if he will be knight of mine, must be contented with what he finds, as well as other knights.
Sir Sim. So smart already, faith and troth!
Mrs. Mar. Dear Mr. Dapperwit I am overjoyed to see you; but I thank honest Jonas for't. [She hugs Dapperwit.
Sir Sim. [Aside.] How she hugs him!
Mrs. Mar. Poor Mr. Dapperwit, I thought I should never have seen you again; but I thank honest Jonas there—
Sir Sim. Do not thank me, Mrs. Martha, any more than I thank you.
Mrs. Mar. I would not be ungrateful, Jonas.
Sir Sim. Then reserve your kindness only for your worthy, noble, brave, heroic knight, who loves you only, and only deserves your kindness.
Mrs. Mar. I will show my kindness to my worthy, brave, heroic knight, in being kind to his friend, his dear friend, who helped him to me. [Hugs Dapperwit again.
Sir Sim. But, Mistress Martha, he is not to help him always; though he helps him to be married, he is not to help him when he is married.
Mrs. Mar. What, Mr. Dapperwit, will you love my worthy knight less after marriage than before? that were against the custom; for marriage gets a man friends, instead of losing those he has.
Dap. I will ever be his servant and yours, dear madam; do not doubt me.
Mrs. Mar. I do not, sweet dear Mr. Dapperwit; but I should not have seen you these two days if it had not been for honest Jonas there—[She kisses Dapperwit.
Sir Sim. [Apart to Dapperwit.] For shame! though she be young and foolish, do not you wrong me to my face.
Dap. Would you have me so ill bred as to repulse her innocent kindness?—what a thing it is to want wit!
Sir Sim. [Aside.] A pox! I must make haste to discover myself, or I shall discover what I would not discover; but if I should discover myself in this habit, 'twould not be to my advantage. But I'll go, put on my own clothes, and look like a knight.—[Aloud.] Well, Mrs. Martha, I'll go seek out your knight: are you not impatient to see him?
Mrs. Mar. Wives must be obedient; let him take his own time.
Sir Sim. Can you trust yourself a turn or two with Master Dapperwit?
Mrs. Mar. Yes, yes, Jonas—as long as you will.
Sir Sim. [Aside.] But I would not trust you with him, if I could help it.—
So married wight sees what he dares not blame;
And cannot budge for fear, nor stay for shame. [Exit.
Dap. I am glad he is gone, that I may laugh. 'Tis such a miracle of fops, that his conversation should be pleasant to me, even when it hindered me of yours.
Mrs. Mar. Indeed, I'm glad he is gone too, as pleasant as he is.
Dap. I know why, I know why, sweet Mrs. Martha. I warrant you, you had rather have the parson's company than his?—now you are out of your father's house, 'tis time to leave being a hypocrite.
Mrs. Mar. Well, for the jest's sake, to disappoint my knight, I would not care if I disappointed myself of a ladyship.
Dap. Come, I will not keep you on the tenters; I know you have a mind to make sure of me: I have a little chaplain (I wish he were a bishop or one of the friars) to perfect our revenge upon that zealous Jew, your father.
Mrs. Mar. Do not speak ill of my father; he has been your friend, I'm sure.
Dap. My friend!
Mrs. Mar. His hard usage of me conspired with your good mien and wit, and to avoid slavery unto him, I stoop to your yoke.
Dap. I will be obliged to your father for nothing but a portion; nor to you for your love; 'twas due to my merit.
Mrs. Mar. You show yourself Sir Simon's original; if 'twere not for that vanity—
Dap. I should be no wit—'tis the badge of my calling; for you can no more find a man of wit without vanity than a fine woman without affectation: but let us go before the knight comes again.
Mrs. Mar. Let us go before my father comes; he soon will have the intelligence.
Dap. Stay, let me think a little. [Pauses.
Mrs. Mar. What are you thinking of? you should have thought before this time, or I should have thought rather.
Dap. Peace! peace!
Mrs. Mar. What are you thinking of?
Dap. I am thinking what a wit without vanity is like. He is like—
Mrs. Mar. You do not think we are in a public place, and may be surprised and prevented by my father's scouts!
Dap. What! would you have me lose my thought?
Mrs. Mar. You would rather lose your mistress, it seems.
Dap. He is like—I think I am a sot to-night, let me perish.
Mrs. Mar. Nay, if you are so in love with your thought—[Offers to go.
Dap. Are you so impatient to be my wife?—He is like—he is like—a picture without shadows, or—or—a face without patches—or a diamond without a foil. These are new thoughts now, these are new!
Mrs. Mar. You are wedded already to your thoughts, I see;—good night.
Dap. Madam, do not take it ill:—
For loss of happy thought there's no amends;
For his new jest true wit will lose old friends.
That's new again,—the thought's new. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.—Another part of the same.
Enter Gripe, leading Lucy; Mrs. Joyner and Mrs. Crossbite following.
Gripe. Mrs. Joyner, I can conform to this mode of public walking by moonlight, because one is not known.
Lucy. Why, are you ashamed of your company?
Gripe. No, pretty one; because in the dark, or as it were in the dark, there is no envy nor scandal. I would neither lose you nor my reputation.
Mrs. Joyn. Your reputation! indeed, your worship, 'tis well known there are as grave men as your worship; nay, men in office too, that adjourn their cares and businesses, to come and unbend themselves at night here, with a little vizard-mask.
Gripe. I do believe it, Mrs. Joyner.
Lucy. Ay, godmother, and carries and treats her at Mulberry-garden.
Mrs. Cros. Nay, does not only treat her, but gives her his whole gleaning of that day.
Gripe. They may, they may, Mrs. Crossbite; they take above six in the hundred.
Mrs. Cros. Nay, there are those of so much worth and honour and love, that they'll take it from their wives and children to give it to their misses; now your worship has no wife, and but one child.
Gripe. Still for my edification! [Aside.
Mrs. Joyn. That's true, indeed; for I know a great lady that cannot follow her husband abroad to his haunts, because her Ferrandine is so ragged and greasy, whilst his mistress is as fine as fi'pence, in embroidered satins.
Gripe. Politicly done of him indeed! If the truth were known, he is a statesman by that, umph—
Mrs. Cros. Truly, your women of quality are very troublesome to their husbands: I have heard 'em complain, they will allow them no separate maintenance, though the honourable jilts themselves will not marry without it.
Mrs. Joyn. Come, come, mistress; sometimes 'tis the craft of those gentlemen to complain of their wives' expenses to excuse their own narrowness to their misses; but your daughter has a gallant that can make no excuse.
Gripe. So, Mrs. Joyner!—my friend, Mrs. Joyner—
Mrs. Cros. I hope, indeed, he'll give my daughter no cause to dun him; for, poor wretch! she is as modest as her mother.
Gripe. I profess, I believe it.
Lucy. But I have the boldness to ask him for a treat.—Come, gallant, we must walk towards the Mulberry-garden.
Gripe. So!—I am afraid, little mistress, the rooms are all taken up by this time.
Mrs. Joyn. Will you shame yourself again? [Aside to Gripe.
Lucy. If the rooms be full we'll have an arbour.
Gripe. At this time of night!—besides, the waiters will ne'er come near you.
Lucy. They will be observant of good customers, as we shall be. Come along.
Gripe. Indeed, and verily, little mistress, I would go, but that I should be forsworn if I did.
Mrs. Joyn. That's so pitiful an excuse!—
Gripe. In truth, I have forsworn the place ever since I was pawned there for a reckoning.
Lucy. You have broken many an oath for the good old cause, and will you boggle at one for your poor little miss? Come along.
Enter Lady Flippant behind.
L. Flip. Unfortunate lady that I am! I have left the herd on purpose to be chased, and have wandered this hour here; but the Park affords not so much as a satyr for me, and (that's strange!) no Burgundy man or drunken scourer will reel my way. The rag-women, and cinder-women, have better luck than I.—But who are these? if this mongrel light does not deceive me, 'tis my brother,—'tis he:—there's Joyner, too, and two other women. I'll follow 'em. It must be he, for this world hath nothing like him;—I know not what the devil may be in the other. [Exeunt.
SCENE III.—Another part of the same.
Enter Sir Simon Addleplot, in fine clothes, Dapperwit and Mrs. Martha, unseen by him at the door.
Sir Sim. Well, after all my seeking, I can find those I would not find; I'm sure 'twas old Gripe, and Joyner with him, and the widow followed. He would not have been here, but to have sought his daughter, sure; but vigilant Dapperwit has spied them too, and has, no doubt, secured her from him.
Dap. And you. [Aside.
Sir Sim. The rogue is as good at hiding, as I am at stealing, a mistress. 'Tis a vain, conceited fellow, yet I think 'tis an honest fellow:—but, again, he is a damnable whoring fellow; and what opportunity this air and darkness may incline 'em to, Heaven knows; for I have heard the rogue say himself, a lady will no more show her modesty in the dark than a Spaniard his courage.
Dap. Ha! ha! ha!—
Sir Sim. Nay, if you are there, my true friend, I'll forgive your hearkening, if you'll forgive my censures.—I speak to you, dear Madam Martha; dear, dear—behold your worthy knight—
Mrs. Mar. That's far from neighbours.
Sir Sim. Is come to reap the fruit of his labours.
Mrs. Mar. I cannot see the knight; well, but I'm sure I hear Jonas.
Sir Sim. I am no Jonas, Mrs. Martha.
Mrs. Mar. The night is not so dark, nor the peruke so big, but I can discern Jonas.
Sir Sim. Faith and troth, I am the very Sir Simon Addleplot that is to marry you; the same Dapperwit solicited you for; ask him else, my name is not Jonas.
Mrs. Mar. You think my youth and simplicity capable of this cheat; but let me tell you, Jonas, 'tis not your borrowed clothes and titles shall make me marry my father's man.
Sir Sim. Borrowed title! I'll be sworn I bought it of my laundress, who was a court-laundress; but, indeed, my clothes I have not paid for; therefore, in that sense, they are borrowed.
Mrs. Mar. Prithee, Jonas, let the jest end, or I shall be presently in earnest.
Sir Sim. Pray, be in earnest, and let us go; the parson and supper stay for us, and I am a knight in earnest.
Mrs. Mar. You a knight! insolent, saucy fool.
Sir Sim. The devil take me, Mrs. Martha, if I am not a knight now! a knight-baronet too! A man ought, I see, to carry his patent in his pocket when he goes to be married; 'tis more necessary than a licence. I am a knight indeed and indeed now, Mrs. Martha.
Mrs. Mar. Indeed and indeed, the trick will not pass, Jonas.
Sir Sim. Poor wretch! she's afraid she shall not be a lady.—Come, come, discover the intrigue, Dapperwit.
Mrs. Mar. You need not discover the intrigue, 'tis apparent already. Unworthy Mr. Dapperwit, after my confidence reposed in you, could you be so little generous as to betray me to my father's man? but I'll be even with you.
Sir Sim. Do not accuse him, poor man! before you hear him.—Tell her the intrigue, man.
Dap. A pox! she will not believe us.
Sir Sim. Will you not excuse yourself? but I must not let it rest so.—Know, then, Mrs. Martha—
Mrs. Mar. Come, I forgive thee before thy confession, Jonas; you never had had the confidence to have designed this cheat upon me but from Mr. Dapperwit's encouragement—'twas his plot.
Sir Sim. Nay, do not do me that wrong, madam.
Mrs. Mar. But since he has trepanned me out of my father's house, he is like to keep me as long as I live; and so good night, Jonas.
Sir Sim. Hold, hold, what d'ye mean both? prithee tell her I am Sir Simon, and no Jonas.
Dap. A pox! she will not believe us, I tell you.
Sir Sim. I have provided a supper and parson at Mulberry-garden, and invited all my friends I could meet in the Park.
Dap. Nay, rather than they shall be disappointed, there shall be a bride and bridegroom to entertain 'em; Mrs. Martha and I will go thither presently.
Sir Sim. Why, shall she be your bride?
Dap. You see she will have it so.
Sir Sim. Will you make Dapperwit your husband?
Mrs. Mar. Rather than my father's man.
Sir Sim. Oh, the devil!
Mrs. Mar. Nay, come along, Jonas, you shall make one at the wedding, since you helped to contrive it.
Sir Sim. Will you cheat yourself, for fear of being cheated?
Mrs. Mar. I am desperate now.
Sir Sim. Wilt thou let her do so ill a thing, Dapperwit, as to marry thee? open her eyes, prithee, and tell her I am a true knight.
Dap. 'Twould be in vain, by my life! you have carried yourself so like a natural clerk—and so adieu, good Jonas. [Exeunt Mrs. Martha and Dapperwit.
Sir Sim. What! ruined by my own plot, like an old cavalier! yet like him, too, I will plot on still, a plot of prevention. So! I have it—her father was here even now, I'm sure; well—I'll go tell her father of her, that I will!
And punish so her folly and his treachery:
Revenge is sweet, and makes amends for lechery.
[Exit.
SCENE IV.—Another part of the same.
Enter Lydia and Leonore.
Lyd. I wish I had not come hither to-night, Leonore.
Leo. Why did you, madam, if the place be so disagreeable to you?
Lyd. We cannot help visiting the place often where we have lost anything we value: I lost Ranger here last night.
Leo. You thought you had lost him before, a great while ago; and therefore you ought to be the less troubled.
Lyd. But 'twas here I missed him first, I'm sure.
Leo. Come, madam, let not the loss vex you; he is not worth the looking after.
Lyd. It cannot but vex me yet, if I lost him by my own fault.
Leo. You had but too much care to keep him.
Lyd. It often happens, indeed, that too much care is as bad as negligence; but I had rather be robbed than lose what I have carelessly.
Leo. But, I believe you would hang the thief if you could.
Lyd. Not if I could have my own again.
Leo. I see you would be too merciful.
Lyd. I wish I were tried.
Leo. But, madam, if you please, we will waive the discourse; for people seldom (I suppose) talk with pleasure of their real losses.
Lyd. 'Tis better than to ruminate on them; mine, I'm sure, will not out of head nor heart.
Leo. Grief is so far from retrieving a loss, that it makes it greater; but the way to lessen it is by a comparison with others' losses. Here are ladies in the Park of your acquaintance, I doubt not, can compare with you; pray, madam, let us walk and find 'em out.
Lyd. 'Tis the resentment, you say, makes the loss great or little; and then, I'm sure, there is none like mine: however, go on. [Exeunt.
SCENE V.—Another part of the same.
Enter Vincent and Valentine.
Vin. I am glad I have found you, for now I am prepared to lead you out of the dark and all your trouble: I have good news.
Val. You are as unmerciful as the physician who with new arts keeps his miserable patient alive and in hopes, when he knows the disease is incurable.
Vin. And you, like the melancholy patient, mistrust and hate your physician, because he will not comply with your despair: but I'll cure your jealousy now.
Val. You know, all diseases grow worse by relapses.
Vin. Trust me once more.
Val. Well, you may try your experiments upon me.
Vin. Just as I shut the door upon you, the woman Ranger expected came up stairs; but finding another woman in discourse with him, went down again; I suppose, as jealous of him, as you of Christina.
Val. How does it appear she came to Ranger?
Vin. Thus: Dapperwit came up after he had brought her, just then, in a chair from St. James's by Ranger's appointment; and it is certain your Christina came to you.
Val. How can that be? for she knew not I was in the kingdom.
Vin. My man confesses, when I sent him to inquire of her woman about her lady's being here in the Park last night, he told her you were come; and she, it seems, told her mistress.
Val. [Aside.] That might be.—[Aloud.] But did not Christina confess, Ranger was in her lodging last night?
Vin. By intrusion, which she had more particularly informed me of, if her apprehensions of your danger had not posted me after you; she not having yet (as I suppose) heard of Clerimont's recovery. I left her, poor creature! at home, distracted with a thousand fears for your life and love.
Val. Her love, I'm sure, has cost me more fears than my life; yet that little danger is not past (as you think) till the great one be over.
Vin. Open but your eyes, and the fantastic goblin's vanished, and all your idle fears will turn to shame; for jealousy is the basest cowardice.
Val. I had rather, indeed, blush for myself than her.
Vin. I'm sure you will have more reason. But is not that Ranger there?
Enter Ranger, followed by Christina and Isabel; after them Lydia and Leonore.
Val. I think it is.
Vin. I suppose his friend Dapperwit is not far off; I will examine them both before you, and not leave you so much as the shadow of doubt: Ranger's astonishment at my lodging confessed his mistake.
Val. His astonishment might proceed from Christina's unexpected strangeness to him.
Vin. He shall satisfy you now himself to the contrary, I warrant you; have but patience.
Val. I had rather, indeed, he should satisfy my doubts than my revenge; therefore I can have patience.
Vin. But what women are those that follow him?
Val. Stay a little—
Ran. Lydia, Lydia—poor Lydia!
Lyd. If she be my rival, 'tis some comfort yet to see her follow him, rather than he her. [To Leonore.
Leo. But if you follow them a little longer, for your comfort you shall see them go hand in hand.
Chris. Sir! sir!—[To Ranger.
Leo. She calls to him already.
Lyd. But he does not hear, you see; let us go a little nearer.
Vin. Sure it is Ranger!
Val. As sure as the woman that follows him closest is Christina.
Vin. For shame! talk not of Christina; I left her just now at home, surrounded with so many fears and griefs she could not stir.
Val. She is come, it may be, to divert them here in the Park; I'm sure 'tis she.
Vin. When the moon, at this instant, scarce affords light enough to distinguish a man from a tree, how can you know her?
Val. How can you know Ranger, then?
Vin. I heard him speak.
Val. So you may her too, I'll secure you, if you will draw but a little nearer; she came, doubtless, to no other end but to speak with him: observe—
Chris. [To Ranger.] Sir, I have followed you hitherto; but now, I must desire you to follow me out of the company; for I would not be overheard nor disturbed.
Ran. Ha! is not this Christina's voice? it is, I am sure; I cannot be deceived now.—Dear madam—
Vin. It is she indeed. [Apart to Valentine.
Val. Is it so?
Chris. Come, sir—[To Ranger.
Val. Nay, I'll follow you too, though not invited. [Aside.
Lyd. I must not, cannot stay behind. [Aside. [They all go off together hastily.
Re-enter Christina, Isabel, and Valentine on the other side.
Chris. Come along, sir.
Val. So! I must stick to her when all is done; her new servant has lost her in the crowd, she has gone too fast for him; so much my revenge is swifter than his love. Now shall I not only have the deserted lover's revenge, of disappointing her of her new man, but an opportunity infallibly at once to discover her falseness, and confront her impudence. [Aside.
Chris. Pray come along, sir, I am in haste.
Val. So eager, indeed!—I wish that cloud may yet withhold the moon, that this false woman may not discover me before I do her. [Aside.
Chris. Here no one can hear us, and I'm sure we cannot see one another.
Val. 'Sdeath! what have I giddily run myself upon? 'Tis rather a trial of myself than her;—I cannot undergo it. [Aside.
Chris. Come nearer, sir.
Val. Hell and vengeance! I cannot suffer it—I cannot. [Aside.
Chris. Come, come; yet nearer,—pray come nearer.
Val. It is impossible! I cannot hold! I must discover myself, rather than her infamy. [Aside.
Chris. You are conscious, it seems, of the wrong you have done me, and are ashamed, though in the dark. [Speaks, walking slowly.
Val. How's this! [Aside.
Chris. I'm glad to find it so; for all my business with you is, to show you your late mistakes, and force a confession from you of those unmannerly injuries you have done me.
Val. What! I think she's honest; or does she know me?—sure she cannot. [Aside.
Chris. First, your intrusion, last night, into my lodging; which, I suppose, has begot your other gross mistakes.
Val. No, she takes me for Ranger, I see again. [Aside.
Chris. You are to know, then, (since needs you must,) it was not me you followed last night to my lodging from the Park, but some kinswoman of yours, it seems, whose fear of being discovered by you prevailed with me to personate her, while she withdrew, our habits and our statures being much alike; which I did with as much difficulty, as she used importunity to make me; and all this my Lady Flippant can witness, who was then with your cousin.
Val. I am glad to hear this. [Aside.
Chris. Now, what your claim to me, at Mr. Vincent's lodging, meant; the letter and promises you unworthily, or erroneously, laid to my charge, you must explain to me and others, or—
Val. How's this! I hope I shall discover no guilt but my own:—she would not speak in threats to a lover. [Aside.
Chris. Was it because you found me in Mr. Vincent's lodgings you took a liberty to use me like one of your common visitants? but know, I came no more to Mr. Vincent than you. Yet, I confess, my visit was intended to a man—a brave man, till you made him use a woman ill; worthy the love of a princess, till you made him censure mine; good as angels, till you made him unjust:—why, in the name of honour, would you do't?
Val. How happily am I disappointed!—poor injured Christina! [Aside.
Chris. He would have sought me out first, if you had not made him fly from me. Our mutual love, confirmed by a contract, made our hearts inseparable, till you rudely, if not maliciously, thrust in upon us, and broke the close and happy knot: I had lost him before for a month, now for ever. [Weeps.
Val. My joy and pity makes me as mute as my shame; yet I must discover myself. [Aside.
Chris. Your silence is a confession of your guilt.
Val. I own it. [Aside.
Chris. But that will not serve my turn; for straight you must go clear yourself and me to him you have injured in me! if he has not made too much haste from me to be found again. You must, I say; for he is a man that will have satisfaction; and in satisfying him, you do me.
Val. Then he is satisfied.
Chris. How! is it you? then I am not satisfied.
Val. Will you be worse than your word?
Chris. I gave it not to you.
Val. Come, dear Christina, the jealous, like the drunkard, has his punishment with his offence.
Re-enter Vincent.
Vin. Valentine! Mr. Valentine!
Val. Vincent!—
Vin. Where have you been all this while? [Valentine holds Christina by the hand; who seems to struggle to get from him.
Val. Here with my injured Christina.
Vin. She's behind with Ranger, who is forced to speak all the tender things himself; for she affords him not a word.
Val. Pish! pish! Vincent; who is blind now? who deceived now?
Vin. You are; for I'm sure Christina is with him. Come back and see. [They go out on one side, and return on the other.
Re-enter Lydia and Leonore, followed by Ranger.
Ran. [To Lydia.] Still mocked! still abused! did you not bid me follow you where we might not be disturbed or overheard?—and now not allow me a word!
Vin. Did you hear him? [Apart to Valentine.
Val. Yes, yes, peace. [Apart to Vincent.
Ran. Disowning your letter and me at Mr. Vincent's lodging, declaring you came to meet another there, and not me, with a great deal of such affronting unkindness, might be reasonable enough, because you would not entrust Vincent with our love; but now, when nobody sees us nor hears us, why this unseasonable shyness?
Lyd. It seems she did not expect him there, but had appointed to meet another:—I wish it were so. [Aside.
Ran. I have not patience!—do you design thus to revenge my intrusion into your lodging last night? sure if you had then been displeased with my company, you would not have invited yourself to't again by a letter? or is this a punishment for bringing you to a house so near your own, where, it seems, you were known too? I do confess it was a fault; but make me suffer any penance but your silence, because it is the certain mark of a mistress's lasting displeasure.
Lyd. My—is not yet come. [Aside.
Ran. Not yet a word! you did not use me so unkindly last night, when you chid me out of your house, and with indignation bid me begone. Now, you bid me follow you, and yet will have nothing to say to me; and I am more deceived this day and night than I was last night;—when, I must confess, I followed you for another—
Lyd. I'm glad to hear that. [Aside.
Ran. One that would have used me better; whose love I have ungratefully abused for yours; yet from no other reason but my natural inconstancy.—[Aside.] Poor Lydia! Lydia!
Lyd. He muttered my name sure; and with a sigh. [Aside.
Ran. But as last night by following (as I thought) her, I found you, so this night, by following you in vain, I do resolve, if I can find her again, to keep her for ever.
Lyd. Now I am obliged, and brought into debt, by his inconstancy:—faith, now cannot I hold out any longer; I must discover myself. [Aside.
Ran. But, madam, because I intend to see you no more, I'll take my leave of you for good and all; since you will not speak, I'll try if you will squeak. [Goes to throw her down, she squeaks.
Lyd. Mr. Ranger! Mr. Ranger!
Vin. Fy! Fy! you need not ravish Christina sure, that loves you so.
Ran. Is it she! Lydia all this while!—how am I gulled! and Vincent in the plot too! [Aside.
Lyd. Now, false Ranger!
Ran. Now, false Christina too!—you thought I did not know you now, because I offered you such an unusual civility.
Lyd. You knew me!—I warrant you knew, too, that I was the Christina you followed out of the Park last night! that I was the Christina that writ the letter too!
Ran. Certainly, therefore I would have taken my revenge, you see, for your tricks.
Val. Is not this the same woman that took refuge in your house last night, madam? [To Christina.
Chris. The very same.
Val. What, Mr. Ranger, we have chopped, and changed, and hid our Christinas so long and often, that at last we have drawn each of us our own?
Ran. Mr. Valentine in England!—the truth on't is, you have juggled together, and drawn without my knowledge; but since she will have it so, she shall wear me for good and all now. [Goes to take her by the hand.
Lyd. Come not near me.
Ran. Nay, you need not be afraid I would ravish you, now I know you.
Lyd. And yet, Leonore, I think 'tis but justice to pardon the fault I made him commit? [Apart to Leonore, Ranger listens.
Ran. You consider it right, cousin; for indeed you are but merciful to yourself in it.
Lyd. Yet, if I would be rigorous, though I made a blot, your oversight has lost the game.
Ran. But 'twas rash woman's play, cousin, and ought not to be played again, let me tell you.
Enter Dapperwit.
Dap. Who's there? who's there?
Ran. Dapperwit.
Dap. Mr. Ranger, I am glad I have met with you, for I have left my bride just now in the house at Mulberry-garden, to come and pick up some of my friends in the Park here to sup with us.
Ran. Your bride! are you married then? where is your bride?
Dap. Here at Mulberry-garden, I say, where you, these ladies and gentlemen, shall all be welcome, if you will afford me the honour of your company.
Ran. With all our hearts:—but who have you married? Lucy?
Dap. What! do you think I would marry a wench? I have married an heiress worth thirty thousand pounds, let me perish!
Vin. An heiress worth thirty thousand pounds!
Dap. Mr. Vincent, your servant; you here too?
Ran. Nay, we are more of your acquaintance here, I think.—Go, we'll follow you, for if you have not dismissed your parson, perhaps we may make him more work. [Exeunt.
SCENE VI.—The Dining-room in Mulberry-garden House.
Enter Sir Simon Addleplot, Gripe, Lady Flippant, Mrs. Martha, Mrs. Joyner, Mrs. Crossbite, and Lucy.
Sir Sim. 'Tis as I told you, sir, you see.
Gripe. Oh, graceless babe! married to a wit! an idle, loitering, slandering, foul-mouthed, beggarly wit! Oh that my child should ever live to marry a wit!
Mrs. Joyn. Indeed, your worship had better seen her fairly buried, as they say.
Mrs. Cros. If my daughter there should have done so, I would not have given her a groat.
Gripe. Marry a wit!
Sir Sim. Mrs. Joyner, do not let me lose the widow too:—for if you do, (betwixt friends,) I and my small annuity are both blown up: it will follow my estate. [Aside to Mrs. Joyner.
Mrs. Joyn. I warrant you. [Aside.
L. Flip. Let us make sure of Sir Simon to-night, or—[Aside to Mrs. Joyner.
Mrs. Joyn. You need not fear it.—[Aside.] Like the lawyers, while my clients endeavour to cheat one another, I in justice cheat 'em both.
Gripe. Marry a wit!
Enter Dapperwit, Ranger, Lydia, Valentine, Christina, and Vincent. Dapperwit stops them, and they stand all behind.
Dap. What, is he here! Lucy and her mother! [Aside.
Gripe. Tell me how thou camest to marry a wit.
Mrs. Mar. Pray be not angry, sir, and I'll give you a good reason.
Gripe. Reason for marrying a wit!
Mrs. Mar. Indeed, I found myself six months gone with child, and saw no hopes of your getting me a husband, or else I had not married a wit, sir.
Mrs. Joyn. Then you were the wit.
Gripe. Had you that reason? nay, then——[Holding up his hands.
Dap. How's that! [Aside.
Ran. Who would have thought, Dapperwit, you would have married a wench?
Dap. [To Ranger.]—Well, thirty thousand pounds will make me amends; I have known my betters wink, and fall on for five or six.—[To Gripe and the rest.] What! you are come, sir, to give me joy? you Mrs. Lucy, you and you? well, unbid guests are doubly welcome.—Sir Simon, I made bold to invite these ladies and gentlemen.—For you must know, Mr. Ranger, this worthy Sir Simon does not only give me my wedding supper, but my mistress too; and is, as it were, my father.
Sir Sim. Then I am, as it were, a grandfather to your new wife's Hans en kelder;[49] to which you are but, as it were, a father! there's for you again, sir—ha, ha!—
Ran. Ha! ha! ha!—[To Vincent.
Dap. Fools sometimes say unhappy things, if we would mind 'em; but—what! melancholy at your daughter's wedding, sir?
Gripe. How deplorable is my condition!
Dap. Nay, if you will rob me of my wench, sir, can you blame me for robbing you of your daughter? I cannot be without a woman.
Gripe. My daughter, my reputation, and my money gone!—but the last is dearest to me. Yet at once I may retrieve that, and be revenged for the loss of the other: and all this by marrying Lucy here: I shall get my five hundred pounds again, and get heirs to exclude my daughter and frustrate Dapperwit; besides, 'tis agreed on all hands, 'tis cheaper keeping a wife than a wench. [Aside.
Dap. If you are so melancholy, sir, we will have the fiddles and a dance to divert you; come!
A Dance.
Gripe. Indeed, you have put me so upon a merry pin, that I resolve to marry too.
L. Flip. Nay, if my brother come to marrying once, I may too; I swore I would, when he did, little thinking—
Sir Sim. I take you at your word, madam.
L. Flip. Well, but if I had thought you would have been so quick with me—
Gripe. Where is your parson?
Dap. What! you would not revenge yourself upon the parson?
Gripe. No, I would have the parson revenge me upon you; he should marry me.
Dap. I am glad you are so frolic, sir; but who would you marry?
Gripe. That innocent lady. [Pointing to Lucy.
Dap. That innocent lady!
Gripe. Nay, I am impatient, Mrs. Joyner; pray fetch him up if he be yet in the house.
Dap. We were not married here:—but you cannot be in earnest.
Gripe. You'll find it so; since you have robbed me of my housekeeper, I must get another.
Dap. Why, she was my wench!
Gripe. I'll make her honest then.
Mrs. Cros. Upon my repute he never saw her before:—but will your worship marry my daughter then?
Gripe. I promise her and you, before all this good company, to-morrow I will make her my wife.
Dap. How!
Ran. Our ladies, sir, I suppose, expect the same promise from us. [To Valentine.
Val. They may be sure of us without a promise; but let us (if we can) obtain theirs, to be sure of them.
Dap. But will you marry her to-morrow?—[To Gripe.
Gripe. I will, verily.
Dap. I am undone then! ruined, let me perish!
Sir Sim. No, you may hire a little room in Covent Garden, and set up a coffee-house:—you and your wife will be sure of the wits' custom.
Dap.
Abused by him I have abused!—
Fortune our foe we cannot overwit;
By none but thee our projects are cross-bit.
Val. Come, dear madam, what, yet angry?—jealousy sure is much more pardonable before marriage than after it; but to-morrow, by the help of the parson, you'll put me out of all my fears.
Chris. I am afraid then you would give me my revenge, and make me jealous of you; and I had rather suspect your faith than you should mine.
Ran. Cousin Lydia, I had rather suspect your faith too, than you should mine; therefore let us e'en marry to-morrow, that I may have my turn of watching, dogging, standing under the window, at the door, behind the hanging, or—
Lyd. But if I could be desperate now and give you up my liberty, could you find in your heart to quit all other engagements, and voluntarily turn yourself over to one woman, and she a wife too? could you away with the insupportable bondage of matrimony?
Ran. You talk of matrimony as irreverently as my Lady Flippant: the bondage of matrimony! no—
The end of marriage now is liberty.
And two are bound—to set each other free.