| The cunning gamesters never gain too fast, |
| But lose at first, to win the more at last. |
| Your mercy and your pardon I implore, |
| For the offence of asking it before. |
SCENE III.
Old Mirabel's House.
Enter Duretete, with a Letter.
Dur. [Reads.] My rudeness was only a proof of your humour, which I have found so agreeable, that I own myself penitent, and willing to make any reparation upon your first appearance toBisarre.
Mirabel swears she loves me, and this confirms it; then farewell gallantry, and welcome revenge! 'Tis my turn now to be upon the sublime; I'll take her off; I warrant her!
Enter Bisarre.
Well, mistress, do you love me?
Bis. I hope, sir, you will pardon the modesty of——
Dur. Of what? of a dancing devil!—Do you love me, I say?
Bis. Perhaps I——
Dur. What?
Bis. Perhaps I do not.
Dur. Ha! abused again! Death, woman, I'll——
Bis. Hold, hold, sir! I do, do!
Dur. Confirm it, then, by your obedience; stand there, and ogle me now, as if your heart, blood, and soul, were like to fly out at your eyes—First, the direct surprise. [She looks full upon him.] Right; next, the deux yeux par oblique. [She gives him the side Glance.] Right; now depart, and languish. [She turns from him, and looks over her Shoulder.] Very well; now sigh. [She sighs.] Now drop your fan on purpose. [She drops her Fan.] Now take it up again. Come now, confess your faults; are not you a proud—say after me.
Bis. Proud.
Dur. Impertinent.
Bis. Impertinent.
Dur. Ridiculous.
Bis. Ridiculous.
Dur. Flirt.
Bis. Puppy.
Dur. Zoons! Woman, don't provoke me; we are alone, and you don't know but the devil may tempt me to do you a mischief; ask my pardon immediately.
Bis. I do, sir; I only mistook the word.
Dur. Cry, then. Have you got e'er a handkerchief?
Bis. Yes, sir.
Dur. Cry, then, handsomely; cry like a queen in a tragedy.
[She pretending to cry, bursts out a laughing.
Enter Two Ladies, laughing.
Bis. Ha! ha! ha!
Both Ladies. Ha! ha! ha!
Dur. Hell broke loose upon me, and all the furies fluttered about my ears! Betrayed again?
Bis. That you are, upon my word, my dear Captain; ha! ha! ha!
Dur. The Lord deliver me!
1 Lady. What! is this the mighty man, with the bull-face, that comes to frighten ladies?
Dur. Ah, madam, I'm the best natured fellow in the world.
Bis. A man! we're mistaken; a man has manners: the awkward creature is some tinker's trull, in a periwig. Come, ladies, let us examine him.
[They lay hold on him.
Dur. Examine! the devil you will!
Bis. I'll lay my life, some great dairy maid in man's clothes!
Dur. They will do't;—lookye, dear christian women! pray hear me.
Bis. Will you ever attempt a lady's honour again?
Dur. If you please to let me get away with my honour, I'll do any thing in the world.
Bis. Will you persuade your friend to marry mine?
Dur. O yes, to be sure.
Bis. And will you do the same by me?
Dur. Burn me if I do, if the coast be clear.[Runs out.
Bis. Ha! ha! ha! The visit, ladies, was critical for our diversions: we'll go make an end of our tea.[Exeunt.
Enter Young Mirabel and Old Mirabel.
Y. Mir. Your patience, sir. I tell you, I won't marry; and, though you send all the bishops in France to persuade me, I shall never believe their doctrine against their practice. You would compel me to that state, which I have heard you curse yourself, when my mother and you have battled it for a whole week together.
Old Mir. Never but once, you rogue, and that was when she longed for six Flanders mares: ay, sir, then she was breeding of you, which showed what an expensive dog I should have of you.
Enter Petit.
Well, Petit, how does she now?
Petit. Mad, sir, con pompos—Ay, Mr. Mirabel, you'll believe that I speak truth, now, when I confess that I have told you hitherto nothing but lies: our jesting is come to a sad earnest; she's downright distracted!
Enter Bisarre.
Bis. Where is this mighty victor!——The great exploit is done. O, sir, [To the old Gentleman.] your wretched ward has found a tender guardian of you, where her young innocence expected protection, here has she found her ruin.
Old Mir. Ay, the fault is mine; for I believe that rogue won't marry, for fear of begetting such another disobedient son as his father did. I have done all I can, madam, and now can do no more than run mad for company.[Cries.
Enter Dugard, with his Sword drawn.
Dug. Away! Revenge! Revenge!
Old Mir. Patience! Patience, sir! [Old Mirabel holds him.] Bob, draw.[Aside.
Dug. Patience! the coward's virtue, and the brave man's failing, when thus provoked—Villain!
Y. Mir. Your sister's phrensy shall excuse your madness; and, to show my concern for what she suffers, I'll bear the villain from her brother.—Put up your anger with your sword; I have a heart like yours, that swells at an affront received, but melts at an injury given; and, if the lovely Oriana's grief be such a moving scene, 'twill find a part within this breast, perhaps as tender as a brother's.
Dug. To prove that soft compassion for her grief, endeavour to remove it.—There, there, behold an object that's infective; I cannot view her, but I am as mad as she!
Enter Oriana, held by Two Maids, who put her in a
Chair.A sister, that my dying parents left, with their last words and blessing, to my care. Sister, dearest sister![Goes to her.
Old Mir. Ay, poor child, poor child, d'ye know me?
Oriana. You! you are Amadis de Gaul, sir.—Oh! oh, my heart! Were you never in love, fair lady? And do you never dream of flowers and gardens?—I dream of walking fires, and tall gigantic sights. Take heed, it comes now—What's that? Pray stand away: I have seen that face, sure.—How light my head is!
Y. Mir. What piercing charms has beauty, even in madness!
| ORIANA:—I CANNOT; FOR I MUST BE UP AND GO TO CHURCH Click to [ENLARGE] |
![[ENLARGE]](#202507701757713097_067ga.jpg.id-5917064713259876277.wrap-0.html.html){kind=link}
Oriana. I cannot; for I must be up to go to church, and I must dress me, put on my new gown, and be so fine, to meet my love. Heigho!—Will not you tell me where my heart lies buried?
Y. Mir. My very soul is touch'd—Your hand, my fair!
Oriana. How soft and gentle you feel! I'll tell you your fortune, friend.
Y. Mir. How she stares upon me!
Oriana. You have a flattering face; but 'tis a fine one—I warrant you have five hundred mistresses—Ay, to be sure, a mistress for every guinea in his pocket—Will you pray for me? I shall die to-morrow——And will you ring my passing bell?
Y. Mir. Do you know me, injured creature?
Oriana. No,—but you shall be my intimate acquaintance—in the grave.[Weeps.
Y. Mir. Oh, tears! I must believe you; sure there's a kind of sympathy in madness; for even I, obdurate as I am, do feel my soul so tossed with storms of passion, that I could cry for help as well as she.
[Wipes his Eyes.
Oriana. What, have you lost your lover? No, you mock me; I'll go home and pray.
Y. Mir. Stay, my fair innocence, and hear me own my love so loud, that I may call your senses to their place, restore them to their charming happy functions, and reinstate myself into your favour.
Bis. Let her alone, sir; 'tis all too late: she trembles; hold her, her fits grow stronger by her talking; don't trouble her, she don't know you, sir.
Old Mir. Not know him! what then? she loves to see him for all that.
Enter Duretete.
Dur. Where are you all? What the devil! melancholy, and I here! Are ye sad, and such a ridiculous subject, such a very good jest among you as I am?
Y. Mir. Away with this impertinence; this is no place for bagatelle; I have murdered my honour, destroyed a lady, and my desire of reparation is come at length too late. See there!
Dur. What ails her?
Y. Mir. Alas, she's mad!
Dur. Mad! dost wonder at that? By this light, they're all so; they're cozening mad; they're brawling mad; they're proud mad: I just now came from a whole world of mad women, that had almost—What, is she dead?
Y. Mir. Dead! Heavens forbid.
Dur. Heavens further it; for, till they be as cold as a key, there's no trusting them; you're never sure that a woman's in earnest, till she is nailed in her coffin. Shall I talk to her? Are you mad, mistress?
Bis. What's that to you, sir?
Dur. Oons, madam, are you there?[Runs off.
Y. Mir. Away, thou wild buffoon! How poor and mean this humour now appears? His follies and my own I here disclaim; this lady's phrensy has restored my senses, and, was she perfect now, as once she was, (before you all I speak it) she should be mine; and, as she is, my tears and prayers shall wed her.
Dug. How happy had this declaration been some hours ago!
Bis. Sir, she beckons to you, and waves us to go off: come, come, let's leave them.
[Exeunt all but Young Mirabel and Oriana.
Oriana. Oh, sir!
Y. Mir. Speak, my charming angel, if your dear senses have regained their order; speak, fair, and bless me with the news.
Oriana. First, let me bless the cunning of my sex, that happy counterfeited phrensy that has restored to my poor labouring breast the dearest, best beloved of men.
Y. Mir. Tune all, ye spheres, your instruments of joy, and carry round your spacious orbs the happy sound of Oriana's health; her soul, whose harmony was next to yours, is now in tune again; the counterfeiting fair has played the fool!
She was so mad, to counterfeit for me; I was so mad, to pawn my liberty: But now we both are well, and both are free. Oriana. How, sir? Free!
Y. Mir. As air, my dear bedlamite! What, marry a lunatic! Lookye, my dear, you have counterfeited madness so very well this bout, that you'll be apt to play the fool all your life long.——Here, gentlemen!
Oriana. Monster! you won't disgrace me!
Y. Mir. O' my faith, but I will. Here, come in gentlemen.—A miracle! a miracle! the woman's dispossess'd! the devil's vanished!
Enter Old Mirabel and Dugard.
Old Mir. Bless us! was she possessed?
Y. Mir. With the worst of demons, sir! a marriage devil! a horrid devil! Mr. Dugard, don't be surprised. I promised my endeavours to cure your sister; no mad doctor in Christendom could have done it more effectually. Take her into your charge; and have a care she don't relapse. If she should, employ me not again, for I am no more infallible than others of the faculty; I do cure sometimes.
Oriana. Your remedy, most barbarous man, will prove the greatest poison to my health; for, though my former phrensy was but counterfeit, I now shall run into a real madness.
[Exit; Old Mirabel after.
Y. Mir. What a dangerous precipice have I 'scap'd! Was not I just now upon the brink of destruction?
Enter Duretete.
Oh, my friend, let me run into thy bosom! no lark escaped from the devouring pounces of a hawk, quakes with more dismal apprehension.
Dur. The matter, man!
Y. Mir. Marriage! hanging! I was just at the gallows foot, the running noose about my neck, and the cart wheeling from me.—Oh, I shan't be myself this month again!
Dur. Did not I tell you so? They are all alike, saints or devils!
Y. Mir. Ay, ay: there's no living here with security; this house is so full of stratagem and design, that I must abroad again.
Dur. With all my heart; I'll bear thee company, my lad: I'll meet you at the play; and we'll set out for Italy to-morrow morning.
Y. Mir. A match; I'll go pay my compliment of leave to my father presently.
Dur. I'm afraid he'll stop you.
Y. Mir. What, pretend a command over me, after his settlement of a thousand pound a year upon me! No, no, he has passed away his authority with the conveyance; the will of the living father is chiefly obeyed for the sake of the dying one.
Dependence, ev'n a father's sway secures, For, though the son rebels, the heir is yours. [Exeunt severally.
| She was so mad, to counterfeit for me; |
| I was so mad, to pawn my liberty: |
| But now we both are well, and both are free. |