The Works of Aphra Behn, Vol. II
Part 9 out of 11
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
[_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.
_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
_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
_No Happiness like that atchicv'd with Danger,
--Which once overcome--I lie at Rack and Manger_.
_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
_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_.
_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.
_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
[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.
_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_.
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
_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
_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
_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
_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
_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.
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
'tis 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
_Tick_. _Certo_, and that was a marvellous good lazy Custom.
_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
'tis 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--
_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_.
'Sdeath, 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
_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
_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
_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
_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
[_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.
_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?
_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_.
_Gal_. I will be rack'd first, let go thy hold!
--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.--
_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.
--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
[_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.
[_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?
'tis 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
_Phil_. I know he loves, by this concern I know it,
And will not let him part dissatisfied.
_Cor_. By all that's good, I love him more each moment, and know he's
destin'd to be mine.--
--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.
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!
--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
[_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
_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.
--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
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.
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.--
_Gal_. Oh, damn her, damn her!
_Gal_. The veriest Jilt that ever learnt the Art.
_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
_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
_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
_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
_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.
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
_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.
_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
_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
_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
_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
_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
_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
_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,
_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
_Sil_. You have prevented the Commands I had; but should my Lord know of
_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_.]
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.
_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.--
_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?
_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:
'Tis 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.
_Cor_, 'Tis Laura, my Brother _Julio's_ Mistress, and Sister to
_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.
_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.
_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
_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
_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.
_Lau_. More Interruption!--hah--
_Cor_. My Master, the young Count _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.
_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.
_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.
_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.--
_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_?
--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.
SCENE III. _Changes to the Street_.--Piazo d'Hispagnia.
_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?
_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_.
_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--
_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.--
_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.
_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
_Cor_. Remember this is _Julio_.
[_Pointing to_ Marcella.
_Pet_. I know your design, and warrant ye my part:--hah,
_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
_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;
'tis he, by my Revenge--What say you, Sir?
_Mor_. By th' Mass, I think 'twas he--
_Oct_. _Julio_, I've caught the Wantons in their Toil, I have 'em fast,
thy Sister and her Lover.
_Jul_. Eternal Shame light on me if they scape then.
_Oct_. Follow me quick, whilst we can get Admittance.
_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_. 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_.
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