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PART II

MEN:

WILLMORE, The Rover, in love with La Nuche
BEAUMOND, the English Ambassador's Nephew, in love with La Nuche, contracted to Ariadne
NED BLUNT, an English Country Gentleman
NICHOLAS FETHERFOOL, an English Squire, his Friend
SHIFT, an English Lieutenant
FRIENDS AND OFFICERS to Hunt, an Ensign
HARLEQUIN, Willmore's Man
ABEVILE, Page to Beaumond
DON CARLO, an old Grandee, in love with La Nuche
SANCHO, Bravo to La Nuche
AN OLD JEW, Guardian to the two Monsters
PORTER at the English Ambassador's
RAG, Boy to Willmore
SCARAMOUCHE

WOMEN:

ARIADNE, the English Ambassador's Daughter-in-law, in love with Willmore
LUCIA, her Kinswoman, a Girl
LA NUCHE, a Spanish Curtezan, in love with the Rover
PETRONELLA ELENORA, her Baud
AURELIA, her Woman
A WOMAN GIANT
A DWARF, her Sister

FOOTMEN, SERVANTS, MUSICIANS, OPERATORS and SPECTATORS

[Enter Willmore, Blunt, Fetherfool, and Hunt, two more in Campain Dresses, Rag the Captain's Boy.]

Stay, this is the English Ambassador's. I'll inquire if Beaumond be return'd from Paris.

Prithee, dear Captain, no more Delays, unless thou thinkest he will invite us to Dinner; for this fine thin sharp Air of Madrid has a most notable Faculty of provoking an Appetite: Prithee let's to the Ordinary.

I will not stay --

[Knocks, enter a Porter.]

-- Friend, is the Ambassador's Nephew, Mr. Beaumond, return'd to Madrid yet? If he be, I would speak with him.

I'll let him know so much.

[Goes in, shuts the door.]

Why, how now, what's the Door shut upon us?

And reason, Ned, 'tis Dinner-time in the Ambassador's Kitchen, and should they let the savoury Steam out, what a world of Castilians would there be at the Door feeding upon't. -- Oh there's no living in Spain when the Pot's uncover'd.

Nay, 'tis a Nation of the finest clean Teeth --

Teeth! Gad an they use their Swords no oftner, a Scabbard will last an Age.

[Enter Shift from the House.]

Honest Lieutenant --

My noble Captain -- Welcome to Madrid. What Mr. Blunt, and my honoured Friend Nicholas Fetherfool Esq.

Thy Hand, honest Shift --

[They embrace him.]

And how, Lieutenant, how stand Affairs in this unsanctify'd Town? -- How does Love's great Artillery, the fair La Nuche, from whose bright Eyes the little wanton God throws Darts to wound Mankind?

Faith, she carries all before her still; undoes her Fellow -traders in Love's Art: and amongst the Number, old Carlo de Minalta Segosa pays high for two Nights in a Week.

Hah -- Carlo! Death, what a greeting's here! Carlo, the happy Man! a Dog! a Rascal, gain the bright La Nuche! Oh Fortune! Cursed blind mistaken Fortune! eternal Friend to Fools! Fortune! that takes the noble Rate from Man, to place it on her Idol Interest.

Why Faith, Captain, I should think her Heart might stand as fair for you as any, could you be less satirical -- but by this Light, Captain, you return her Raillery a little too roughly.

Her Raillery! By this Hand I had rather be handsomly abus'd than dully flatter'd; but when she touches on my Poverty, my honourable Poverty, she presses me too sensibly -- for nothing is so nice as Poverty -- But damn her, I'll think of her no more: for she's a Devil, tho her Form be Angel. Is Beaumond come from Paris yet?

He is, I came with him; he's impatient of your Return: I'll let him know you're here.

[Exit. Shift.]

Why, what a Pox ails the Captain o'th' sudden? He looks as sullenly as a routed General, or a Lover after hard Service.

Oh -- something the Lieutenant has told him about a Wench; and when Cupid's in his Breeches, the Devil's ever in's Head -- how now -- What a pox is the matter with you, you look so scurvily now? -- What, is the Gentlewoman otherwise provided? has she cashier'd ye for want of Pay? or what other dire Mischance? -- hah --

Do not trouble me --

Adsheartlikins, but I will, and beat thee too, but I'll know the Cause. I heard Shift tell thee something about La Nuche, a Damsel I have often heard thee Fool enough to sigh for.

Confound the mercenary Jilt!

Nay, adsheartlikins they are all so; tho I thought you had been Whore-proof; 'tis enough for us Fools, Country Gentlemen, Esquires, and Cullies, to miscarry in their amorous Adventures, you Men of Wit weather all Storms you.

Oh, Sir, you're become a new Man, wise and wary, and can no more be cozen'd.

Not by Woman-kind; and for Man I think my Sword will secure me. Pox, I thought a two Months absence and a Siege would have put such Trifles out of thy Head: You do not use to be such a Miracle of Constancy.

That Absence makes me think of her so much; and all the Passions thou find'st about me are to the Sex alone. Give me a Woman, Ned, a fine young amorous Wanton, who would allay this Fire that makes me rave thus, and thou shouldst find me no longer particular, but cold as Winter-Nights to this La Nuche: Yet since I lost my little charming Gipsey, nothing has gone so near my Heart as this.

Ay, there was a Girl, the only she thing that could reconcile me to the Petticoats again after my Naples Adventure, when the Quean rob'd and stript me.

Oh name not Hellena! She was a Saint to be ador'd on Holy-days.

[Enter Beaumond.]

[embracing.]

Willmore! my careless wild inconstant -- how is't, my lucky Rover?

My Life! my Soul! how glad am I to find thee in my Arms again -- and well -- When left you Paris? Paris, that City of Pottage and Crab-Wine swarming with Lacquies and Philies, whose Government is carried on by most Hands, not most Voices -- And prithee how does Belvile and his Lady?

I left 'em both in Health at St. Germains.

Faith, I have wisht my self with ye at the old Temple of Bacchus at St. Clou, to sacrifice a Bottle and a Damsel to his Deity.

My constant Place of Worship whilst there, tho for want of new Saints my Zeal grew something cold, which I was ever fain to supply with a Bottle, the old Remedy when Phyllis is sullen and absent.

Now thou talk'st of Phillis, prithee, dear Harry, what Women hast in store?

I'll tell thee; but first inform me whom these two Sparks are.

Egad, and so they are, Child: Salute 'em -- They are my Friends -- True Blades, Hal. highly guilty of the royal Crime, poor and brave, loyal Fugitives.

I love and honour 'em, Sir, as such --

[Bowing to Blunt.]

Sir, there's neither Love nor Honour lost.

Sir, I scorn to be behind-hand in Civilities.

At first sight I find I am much yours, Sir.

[To Feth.]

Sir, I love and honour any Man that's a Friend to Captain Willmore -- and therefore I am yours --

[Enter Shift.]

-- Well, honest Lieutenant, how does thy Body? -- When shall Ned, and thou and I, crack a Bisket o'er a Glass of Wine, have a Slice of Treason and settle the Nation, hah?

You know, Squire, I am devotedly yours.

[They talk aside.]

Prithee who are these?

Why, the first you saluted is the same Ned Blunt you have often heard Belvile and I speak of: the other is a Rarity of another Nature, one Squire Fetherfool of Croydon, a tame Justice of Peace, who liv'd as innocently as Ale and Food could keep him, till for a mistaken Kindness to one of the Royal Party, he lost his Commission, and got the Reputation of a Sufferer: He's rich, but covetous as an Alderman.

What a Pox do'st keep 'em Company for, who have neither Wit enough to divert thee, nor Good-nature enough to serve thee?

Faith, Harry, 'tis true, and if there were no more Charity than Profit in't, a Man would sooner keep a Cough o'th' Lungs than be troubled with 'em: but the Rascals have a blind side as all conceited Coxcombs have, which when I've nothing else to do, I shall expose to advance our Mirth; the Rogues must be cozen'd, because they're so positive they never can be so: but I am now for softer Joys, for Woman, for Woman in abundance -- dear Hal. inform me where I may safely unlade my Heart.

The same Man still, wild and wanton!

And would not change to be the Catholick King.

I perceive Marriage has not tam'd you, nor a Wife who had all the Charms of her Sex.

Ay -- she was too good for Mortals.

[With a sham Sadness.]

I think thou hadst her but a Month, prithee how dy'd she?

Faith, e'en with a fit of Kindness, poor Soul -- she would to Sea with me, and in a Storm -- far from Land, she gave up the Ghost -- 'twas a Loss, but I must bear it with a christian Fortitude.

Short Happinesses vanish like to Dreams.

Ay faith, and nothing remains with me but the sad Remembrance -- not so much as the least Part of her hundred thousand Crowns; Brussels that inchanted Court has eas'd me of that Grief, where our Heroes act Tantalus better than ever Ovid describ'd him, condemn'd daily to see an Apparition of Meat, Food in Vision only. Faith, I had Bowels, was good-natur'd, and lent upon the publick Faith as far as 'twill go -- But come, let's leave this mortifying Discourse, and tell me how the price of Pleasure goes.

At the old Rates still; he that gives most is happiest, some few there are for Love!

Ah, one of the last, dear Beaumond; and if a Heart or Sword can purchase her, I'll bid as fair as the best. Damn it, I hate a Whore that asks me Mony.

Yet I have known thee venture all thy Stock for a new Woman.

Ay, such a Fool I was in my dull Days of Constancy, but I am now for Change, (and should I pay as often, 'twould undo me) -- for Change, my Dear, of Place, Clothes, Wine, and Women. Variety is the Soul of Pleasure, a Good unknown; and we want Faith to find it.

Thou wouldst renounce that fond Opinion, Willmore, didst thou see a Beauty here in Town, whose Charms have Power to fix inconstant Nature or Fortune were she tottering on her Wheel.

Her Name, my Dear, her Name?

I would not breathe it even in my Complaints, lest amorous Winds should bear it o'er the World, and make Mankind her Slaves; But that it is a Name too cheaply known, And she that owns it may be as cheaply purchas'd.

Hah! cheaply purchas'd too! I languish for her.

Ay, there's the Devil on't, she is -- a Whore.

Ah, what a charming Sound that mighty Word bears!

Damn her, she'll be thine or any body's.

I die for her --

Then for her Qualities --

No more-ye Gods, I ask no more, Be she but fair and much a Whore -- Come let's to her.

Perhaps to morrow you may see this Woman.

Death, 'tis an Age.

Oh, Captain, the strangest News, Captain.

Prithee what?

Why, Lieutenant Shift here tells us of two Monsters arriv'd from Mexico, Jews of vast Fortunes, with an old Jew Uncle their Guardian; they are worth a hundred thousand Pounds a piece -- Marcy upon's, why, 'tis a Sum able to purchase all Flanders again from his most christian Majesty.

Ha, ha, ha, Monsters!

He tells you Truth, Willmore.

But hark ye, Lieutenant, are you sure they are not married?

Who the Devil would venture on such formidable Ladies?

How, venture on 'em! by the Lord Harry, and that would I, tho I'm a Justice of the Peace, and they be Jews, (which to a Christian is a thousand Reasons.)

Is the Devil in you to declare our Designs?

[Aside.]

Mum, as close as a Jesuit.

I admire your Courage, Sir, but one of them is so little, and so deform'd, 'tis thought she is not capable of Marriage; and the other is so huge an overgrown Giant, no Man dares venture on her.

Prithee let's go see 'em; what do they pay for going in?

Pay -- I'd have you to know they are Monsters of Quality.

And not to be seen but by particular Favour of their Guardian, whom I am got acquainted with, from the Friendship I have with the Merchant where they lay. The Giant, Sir, is in love with me, the Dwarf with Ensign Hunt, and as we manage Matters we may prove lucky.

And didst thou see the Show? the Elephant and the Mouse.

Yes, and pleased them wondrously with News I brought 'em of a famous Mountebank who is coming to Madrid, here are his Bills -- who amongst other his marvellous Cures, pretends to restore Mistakes in Nature, to new-mould a Face and Body tho never so misshapen, to exact Proportion and Beauty. This News has made me gracious to the Ladies, and I am to bring 'em word of the Arrival of this famous Empirick, and to negotiate the Business of their Reformation.

And do they think to be restor'd to moderate sizes?

Much pleas'd with the Hope, and are resolv'd to try at any Rate.

Mum, Lieutenant -- not too much of their Transformation; we shall have the Captain put in for a Share, and the Devil would not have him his Rival: Ned and I are resolv'd to venture a Cast for 'em as they are -- Hah, Ned.

[Will. and Beau. read the Bill.]

Yes, if there were any Hopes of your keeping a Secret.

Nay, nay, Ned, the World knows I am a plaguy Fellow at your Secrets; that, and my Share of the Charge shall be my Part, for Shift says the Guardian must be brib'd for Consent: Now the other Moiety of the Mony and the Speeches shall be thy part, for thou hast a pretty Knack that way. Now Shift shall bring Matters neatly about, and we'll pay him by the Day, or in gross, when we married -- hah, Shift.

Sir, I shall be reasonable.

I am sure Fetherfool and Blunt have some wise Design upon these two Monsters -- it must be so -- and this Bill has put an extravagant Thought into my Head -- hark ye, Shift.

[Whispers to him.]

The Devil's in't if this will not redeem my Reputation with the Captain, and give him to understand that all the Wit does not lie in the Family of the Willmores, but that this Noddle of mine can be fruitful too upon Occasion.

Ay, and Lord, how we'll domineer, Ned, hah -- over Willmore and the rest of the Renegado Officers, when we have married these Lady Monsters, hah, Ned.

-- Then to return back to Essex worth a Million.

And I to Croyden --

-- Lolling in Coach and Six --

-- Be dub'd Right Worshipful --

And stand for Knight of the Shire.

Enough -- I must have my Share of this Jest, and for divers and sundry Reasons thereunto belonging, must be this very Mountebank expected.

Faith, Sir, and that were no hard matter, for a day or two the Town will believe it, the same they look for: and the Bank, Operators and Musick are all ready.

Well enough, add but a Harlequin and Scaramouch, and I shall mount in querpo.

Take no care for that, Sir, your Man, and Ensign Hunt, are excellent at those two; I saw 'em act 'em the other day to a Wonder, they'll be glad of the Employment, my self will be an Operator.

No more, get 'em ready, and give it out, the Man of Art's arriv'd: Be diligent and secret, for these two politick Asses must be cozen'd.

I will about the Business instantly.

[Ex. Shift.]

This Fellow will do Feats if he keeps his Word.

I'll give you mine he shall -- But, dear Beaumond, where shall we meet anon?

I thank ye for that -- 'Gad, ye shall dine with me.

A good Motion --

I beg your Pardon now, dear Beaumond -- I having lately nothing else to do, took a Command of Horse from the General at the last Siege, from which I am just arriv'd, and my Baggage is behind, which I must take order for.

Pox on't now there's a Dinner lost, 'twas ever an unlucky Rascal.

To tempt thee more, thou shalt see my Wife that is to be.

Pox on't, I am the leudest Company in Christendom with your honest Women -- but -- What, art thou to be noos'd then?

'Tis so design'd by my Uncle, if an old Grandee my Rival prevent it not; the Wench is very pretty, young, and rich, and lives in the same House with me, for 'tis my Aunt's Daughter.

Much good may it dye, Harry, I pity you, but 'tis common Grievance of you happy Men of Fortune.

[Goes towards the House-door with Beau.]

[Enter La Nuche, Aurelia, Petronella, Sancho, Women veil'd a little.]

Heavens, Madam, is not that the English Captain?

[Looking on Will.]

'Tis, and with him Don Henrick the Ambassador's Nephew -- how my Heart pants and heaves at sight of him! some Fire of the old Flames remaining, which I must strive to extinguish. For I'll not bate a Ducat of this Price I've set upon my self, for all the Pleasures Youth or Love can bring me -- for see Aurelia -- the sad Memento of a dacay'd poor old forsaken Whore in Petronella; consider her, and then commend my Prudence.

Hah, Women! --

Egad, and fine ones too. I'll tell you that.

No matter, Kindness is better Sauce to Woman than Beauty! By this Hand she looks at me -- Why dost hold me?

[Feth. holds him.]

Why, what a Devil, art mad?

Raging, as vigorous Youth kept long from Beauty; wild for the charming Sex, eager for Woman, I long to give a Loose to Love and Pleasure.

These are not Women, Sir, for you to ruffle --

Have a care of your Persons of Quality, Ned.

[Goes to La Nuche.]

-- Those lovely Eyes were never made to throw their Darts in vain.

The Conquest would be hardly worth the Pain.

Hah, La Nuche! with what a proud Disdain she flung away -- stay, I will not part so with you --

[Holds her.]

[Enter Ariadne and Lucia with Footmen.]

Who are these before us, Lucia?

I know not, Madam; but if you make not haste home, you'll be troubled with Carlo your importunate Lover, who is just behind us.

Hang me, a lovely Man! what Lady's that? stay.

What Insolence is this! This Villain will spoil all --

Why, Captain, are you quite distracted? -- dost know where thou art? Prithee be civil --

Go, proud and cruel!

[Turns her from him.]

[Enter Carlo, and two or three Spanish Servants following: Petronella goes to him.]

Hah, affronted by a drunken Islander, a saucy Tramontane! -- Draw --

[To his Servants whilst he takes La Nuche.]

whilst I lead her off -- fear not, Lady, you have the Honour of my Sword to guard ye.

Hah, Carlo -- ye lye -- it cannot guard the boasting Fool that wears it -- be gone -- and look not back upon this Woman. [Snatches her from him] One single Glance destroys thee --

[They draw and fight; Carlo getting hindmost of his Spaniards, the English beat 'em off. The Ladies run away, all but Ariadne and Lucia.]

Heav'ns, Madam, why do ye stay?

To pray for that dear Stranger -- And see, my Prayers are heard, and he's return'd in safety -- this Door shall shelter me to o'er-hear the Quarrel.

[Steps aside.]

[Enter Will. Blunt, Feth. looking big, and putting up his Sword.]

The noble Captain be affronted by a starch'd Ruff and Beard, a Coward in querpo, a walking Bunch of Garlick, a pickl'd Pilchard! abuse the noble Captain, and bear it off in State, like a Christmas Sweet-heart; these things must not be whilst Nicholas Fetherfool wears a Sword.

Pox o' these Women, I thought no good would come on't: besides, where's the Jest in affronting honest Women, if there be such a thing in the Nation?

Hang't, 'twas the Devil and all --

Ha, ha, ha! Why, good honest homespun Country Gentlemen, who do you think those were?

Were! why, Ladies of Quality going to their Devotion; who should they be?

Why, faith, and so I thought too.

Why, that very one Woman I spoke to is ten Whores in Surrey.

Prithee speak softly, Man: 'Slife, we shall be poniarde for keeping thee company.

Wise Mr. Justice, give me your Warrant, and if I do not prove 'em Whores, whip me.

Prithee hold thy scandalous blasphemous Tongue, as if I did not know Whores from Persons of Quality.

Will you believe me when you lie with her? for thou'rt a rich Ass, and may'st do it.

Whores -- ha, ha --

'Tis strange Logick now, because your Band is better that mine, I must not know a Whore better than you.

If this be a Whore, as thou say'st, I understand nothing -- by this Light such a Wench would pass for a Person of Quality in London.

Few Ladies have I seen at a Sheriff's Feast have better Faces, or worn so good Clothes; and by the Lord Harry, if these be of the gentle Craft, I'd not give a Real for an honest Women for my use.

Come follow me into the Church, for thither I am sure they're gone: And I will let you see what a wretched thing you had been had you lived seven Years longer in Surrey, stew'd in Ale and Beef-broth.

O dear Willmore, name not those savory things, there's no jesting with my Stomach; it sleeps now, but if it wakes, wo be to your Shares at the Ordinary.

I'll say that for Fetherfool, if his Heart were but half so good as his Stomach, he were a brave Fellow.

[Aside, Exeunt.]

I am resolv'd to follow -- and learn, if possible, who 'tis has made this sudden Conquest o'er me.

[All go off.]

[Scene draws, and discovers a Church, a great many People at Devotion, soft Musick playing. Enter La Nuche, Aurelia, Petron. and Sancho: To them Willmore, Feth. Blunt; then Ariadne, Lucia; Feth. bows to La Nuche and Petronella.]

Now as I hope to be sav'd, Blunt, she's a most melodious Lady. Would I were worthy to purchase a Sin or so with her. Would not such a Beauty reconcile thy Quarrel to the Sex?

No, were she an Angel in that Shape.

Why, what a pox couldst not lie with her if she'd let thee? By the Lord Harry, as errant a Dog as I am, I'd fain see any of Cupid's Cook-maids put me out of countenance with such a Shoulder of Mutton.

See how he gazes on her -- Lucia, go nearer, and o'er-hear 'em.

[Lucia listens.]

Death, how the charming Hypocrite looks to day, with such a soft Devotion in her Eyes, as if even now she were praising Heav'n for all the Advantages it has blest her with.

Look how Willmore eyes her, the Rogue's smitten heart deep -- Whores --

Only a Trick to keep her to himself -- he thought the Name of a Spanish Harlot would fight us from attempting -- I must divert him -- how is't, Captain -- Prithee mind this Musick -- Is it not most Seraphical?

Pox, let the Fidlers mind and tune their Pipes, I've higher Pleasures now.

[Aside]

Oh, have ye so;

what, with Whores, Captain? -- 'Tis a most delicious Gentlewoman.

Pray, Madam, mind that Cavalier, who takes such pains to recommend himself to you.

Yes, for a fine conceited Fool --

Catso, a Fool, what else?

Right, they are our noblest Chapmen; a Fool, and a rich Fool, and an English rich Fool --

'Sbud, she eyes me, Ned, I'll set my self in order, it may take -- hah --

[Sets himself.]

Let me alone to manage him, I'll to him --

Or to the Devil, so I had one Minute's time to speak to Willmore.

And accosting him thus -- tell him --

[in a hasty Tone.] -- I am desperately in love with him, and am Daughter, Wife, or Mistress to some Grandee -- bemoan the Condition of Women of Quality in Spain, who by too much Constraint are oblig'd to speak first -- but were we blest like other Nations where Men and Women meet --

[Speaking so fast, she offering to put in her word, is still prevented by t'other's running on.]

What Herds of Cuckolds would Spain breed -- 'Slife, I could find in my Heart to forswear your Service: Have I taught ye your Trade, to become my Instructor, how to cozen a dull phlegmatick greasy-brain'd Englishman? -- go and expect your Wishes.

So, she has sent her Matron to our Coxcomb; she saw he was a Cully fit for Game -- who would not be a Rascal to be rich, a Dog, an Ass, a beaten, harden'd Coward -- by Heaven, I will possess this gay Insensible, to make me hate her -- most extremely curse her -- See if she be not fallen to Pray'r again, from thence to Flattery, Jilting and Purse-taking, to make the Proverb good -- My fair false Sybil, what Inspirations are you waiting for from Heaven, new Arts to cheat Mankind! -- Tell me, with what Face canst thou be devout, or ask any thing from thence, who hast made so leud a use of what it has already lavish'd on thee?

Oh my careless Rover! I perceive all your hot Shot is not yet spent in Battel, you have a Volley in reserve for me still -- Faith, Officer, the Town has wanted Mirth in your Absence.

And so might all the wiser part for thee, who hast no Mirth, no Gaiety about thee, and when thou wouldst design some Coxcomb's ruin; to all the rest, a Soul thou hast so dull, that neither Love nor Mirth, nor Wit or Wine can wake it to good Nature -- thou'rt one who lazily work'st in thy Trade, and sell'st for ready Mony so much Kindness; a tame cold Sufferer only, and no more.

What, you would have a Mistress like a Squirrel in a Cage, always in Action -- one who is as free of her Favours as I am sparing of mine -- Well, Captain, I have known the time when La Nuche was such a Wit, such a Humour, such a Shape, and such a Voice, (tho to say Truth I sing but scurvily) 'twas Comedy to see and hear me.

Why, yes Faith for once thou wert, and for once mayst be again, till thou know'st thy Man, and knowest him to be poor. At first you lik'd me too, you saw me gay, no marks of Poverty dwelt in my Face or Dress, and then I was the dearest loveliest Man -- all this was to my outside; Death, you made love to my Breeches, caress'd my Garniture and Feather, and English Fool of Quality you thought me -- 'Sheart, I have known a Woman doat on Quality, tho he has stunk thro all his Perfumes; one who never went all to Bed to her, but left his Teeth, an Eye, false Back and Breast, sometimes his Palate too upon her Toilet, whilst her fair Arms hug'd the dismember'd Carcase, and swore him all Perfection, because of Quality.

But he was rich, good Captain, was he not?

Oh most damnably, and a confounded Blockhead, two certain Remedies against your Pride and Scorn.

Have you done, Sir?

With thee and all thy Sex, of which I've try'd an hundred, and found none true or honest.

Oh, I doubt not the number: for you are one of those healthy-stomacht Lovers, that can digest a Mistress in a Night, and hunger again next Morning: a Pox of your whining consumptive Constitution, who are only constant for want of Appetite: you have a swinging Stomach to Variety, and Want having set an edge upon your Invention, (with which you cut thro all Difficulties) you grow more impudent by Success.

I am not always scorn'd then.

I have known you as confidently put your Hands into your Pockets for Money in a Morning, as if the Devil had been your Banker, when you knew you put 'em off at Night as empty as your Gloves.

And it may be found Money there too.

Then with this Poverty so proud you are, you will not give the Wall to the Catholick King, unless his Picture hung upon't. No Servants, no Money, no Meat, always on foot, and yet undaunted still.

Allow me that, Child.

I wonder what the Devil makes you so termagant on our Sex, 'tis not your high feeding, for your Grandees only dine, and that but when Fortune pleases -- For your parts, who are the poor dependent, brown Bread and old Adam's Ale is only current amongst ye; yet if little Eve walk in the Garden, the starv'd lean Rogues neigh after her, as if they were in Paradise.

Still true to Love you see --

I heard an English Capuchin swear, that if the King's Followers could be brought to pray as well as fast, there would be more Saints among 'em than the Church has ever canoniz'd.

All this with Pride I own, since 'tis a royal Cause I suffer for; go pursue your Business your own way, insnare the Fool -- I saw the Toils you set, and how that Face was ordered for the Conquest, your Eyes brimful of dying lying Love; and now and then a wishing Glance or Sigh thrown as by chance; which when the happy Coxcomb caught -- you feign'd a Blush, as angry and asham'd of the Discovery: and all this Cunning's for a little mercenary Gain -- fine Clothes, perhaps some Jewels too, whilst all the Finery cannot hide the Whore!

There's your eternal Quarrel to our Sex, 'twere a fine Trade indeed to keep a Shop and give your Ware for Love: would it turn to account think ye, Captain, to trick and dress, to receive all wou'd enter? faith, Captain, try the Trade.

What in Discourse with this Railer! -- come away; Poverty's catching.

[Returns from Discourse with Feth. speaks to San.]

So is the Pox, good Matron, of which you can afford good Penniworths.

He charms me even with his angry Looks, and will undo me yet.

Let's leave this Place, I'll tell you my Success as we go.

[Ex. all, some one way, some another, the Forepart of the Church shuts over, except Will. Blunt, Aria. and Lucia.]

She's gone, and all the Plagues of Pride go with her.

Heartlikins, follow her -- Pox on't, an I'd but as good a Hand at this Game as thou hast, I'll venture upon any Chance --

Damn her, come, let's to Dinner. Where's Fetherfool?

Follow'd a good Woodman, who gave him the Sign: he'll lodge the Deer e'er night.

Follow'd her -- he durst not, the Fool wants Confidence enough to look on her.

Oh you know not how a Country Justice may be improved by Travel; the Rogue was hedg'd in at home with the Fear of his Neighbours and the Penal Statutes, now he's broke loose, he runs neighing like a Stone-Horse upon the Common.

However, I'll not believe this -- let's follow 'em.

[Ex. Will. and Blunt.]

He is in love, but with a Courtezan -- some Comfort that. We'll after him -- 'Tis a faint-hearted Lover, Who for the first Discouragement gives over.

[Ex. Ariadne and Lucia.]

[Enter Fetherfool and Sancho, passing over the Stage; after them Willmore and Blunt, follow'd by Ariadne and Lucia.]

'Tis so, by Heaven, he's chaffering with her Pimp. I'll spare my Curses on him for having her, he has a Plague beyond 'em. -- Harkye, I'll never love, nor lie with Women more, those Slaves to Lust, to Vanity and Interest.

Ha, Captain!

[Shaking his Head and smiling.]

Come, let's go drink Damnation to 'em all.

Not all, good Captain.

All, for I hate 'em all --

Heavens! if he should indeed!

[Aside.]

But, Robert, I have found you most inclined to a Damsel when you had a Bottle in your Head.

Give me thy Hand, Ned -- Curse me, despise me, point me out for Cowardice if e'er thou see'st me court a Woman more: Nay, when thou knowest I ask any of the Sex a civil Question again -- a Plague upon 'em, how they've handled me -- come, let's go drink, I say -- Confusion to the Race -- A Woman! -- no, I will be burnt with my own Fire to Cinders e'er any of the Brood shall lay my Flame --

He cannot be so wicked to keep this Resolution sure --

[She passes by.]

Faith, I must be resolv'd -- you've made a pious Resolution, Sir, had you the Grace to keep it --

[Passing on he pauses, and looks on her.]

Hum -- What's that?

That -- O -- nothing -- but a Woman -- come away.

A Woman! Damn her, what Mischief made her cross my way just on the Point of Reformation!

I find the Devil will not lose so hopeful a Sinner. Hold, hold, Captain, have you no Regard to your own Soul? 'dsheartlikins, 'tis a Woman, a very errant Woman.

Your Friend informs you right, Sir, I am a Woman.

Ay, Child, or I were a lost Man -- therefore, dear lovely Creature --

How can you tell, Sir?

Oh, I have naturally a large Faith, Child, and thou'st promising Form, a tempting Motion, clean Limbs, well drest, and a most damnable inviting Air.

I am not to be sold, nor fond of Praise I merit not.

How, not to be sold too! By this light, Child, thou speakest like a Cherubim, I have not heard so obliging a Sound from the Mouth of Woman-kind this many a Day -- I find we must be better acquainted, my Dear.

Your Reason, good familiar Sir, I see no such Necessity.

Child, you are mistaken, I am in great Necessity; for first I love thee -- desperately -- have I not damn'd my Soul already for thee, and wouldst thou be so wicked to refuse a little Consolation to my Body? Then secondly, I see thou art frank and good-natur'd, and wilt do Reason gratis.

How prove ye that, good Mr. Philospher?

Thou say'st thou'rt not to be sold, and I'm sure thou'rt to be had -- that lovely Body of so divine a Form, those soft smooth Arms and Hands, were made t'embrace as well as be embrac'd; that delicate white rising Bosom to be prest, and all thy other Charms to be enjoy'd.

By one that can esteem 'em to their worth, can set a Value and a Rate upon 'em.

Name not those Words, they grate my Ears like Jointure, that dull conjugal Cant that frights the generous Lover. Rate -- Death, let the old Dotards talk of Rates, and pay it t'atone for the Defects of Impotence. Let the sly Statesman, who jilts the Commonwealth with his grave Politicks, pay for the Sin, that he may doat in secret; let the brisk Fool inch out his scanted Sense with a large Purse more eloquent than he: But tell not me of Rates, who bring a Heart, Youth, Vigor, and a Tongue to sing the Praise of every single Pleasure thou shalt give me.

Then if I should be kind, I perceive you would not keep the Secret.

Secrecy is a damn'd ungrateful Sin, Child, known only where Religion and Small-beer are current, despis'd where Apollo and the Vine bless the Country: you find none of Jove's Mistresses hid in Roots and Plants, but fixt Stars in Heaven for all to gaze and wonder at -- and tho I am no God, my Dear, I'll do a Mortal's Part, and generously tell the admiring World what hidden Charms thou hast: Come, lead me to some Place of Happiness --

Prithee, honest Damsel, be not so full of Questions; will a Pistole or two do thee any hurt?

None at all, Sir --

Thou speak'st like a hearty Wench -- and I believe hast not been one of Venus' Hand-maids so long, but thou understand thy Trade -- In short, fair Damsel, this honest Fellow here who is so termagant upon thy Lady, is my Friend, my particular Friend, and therefore I would have him handsomly, and well-favour'dly abus'd -- you conceive me.

Truly, Sir, a friendly Request -- but in what Nature abus'd?

Nature! -- why any of your Tricks would serve -- but if he could be conveniently strip'd and beaten, or tost in a Blanket, or any such trivial Business, thou wouldst do me a singular Kindness; as for Robbery he defies the Devil: an empty Pocket is an Antidote against that Ill.

Your Money, Sir: and if he be not cozen'd, say a Spanish Woman has neither Wit nor Invention upon Occasion.

Sheartlikins, how I shall love and honour thee for't -- here's earnest --

[Talks to her with Joy and Grimace.]

But who was that you entertain'd at Church but now?

Faith, one, who for her Beauty merits that glorious Title she wears, it was -- a Whore, Child.

That's but a scurvy Name; yet, if I'm not mistaken, in those false Eyes of yours, they look with longing Love upon that -- Whore, Child.

Thou are i'th' right, and by this hand, my Soul was full as wishing as my eyes: but a Pox on't, you Women have all a certain Jargon, or Gibberish, peculiar to your selves; of Value, Rate, Present, Interest, Settlement, Advantage, Price, Maintenance, and the Devil and all of Fopperies, which in plain Terms signify ready Money, by way of Fine before Entrance; so that an honest well-meaning Merchant of Love finds no Credit amongst ye, without his Bill of Lading.

We are not all so cruel -- but the Devil on't is, your good -- natur'd Heart is likely accompanied with an ill Face and worse Wit.

Faith, Child, a ready Dish when a Man's Stomach is up, is better than a tedious Feast. I never saw any Man yet cut my piece; some are for Beauty, some are for Wit, and some for the Secret, but I for all, so it be in a kind Girl: and for Wit in Woman, so she say pretty fond things, we understand; tho true or false, no matter.

Give the Devil his due, you are a very conscientious Lover: I love a Man that scorns to impose dull Truth and Constancy on a Mistress.

Constancy, that current Coin with Fools! No, Child, Heaven keep that Curse from our Doors.

Hang it, it loses Time and Profit, new Lovers have new Vows and new Presents, whilst the old feed upon a dull repetition of what they did when they were Lovers; 'tis like eating the cold Meat ones self, after having given a Friend a Feast.

Yes, that's the thrifty Food for the Family when the Guests are gone. Faith, Child, thou hast made a neat and a hearty Speech: But prithee, my Dear, for the future, leave out that same Profit and Present, for I have a natural Aversion to hard words; and for matter of quick Dispatch in the Business -- give me thy Hand, Child -- let us but start fair, and if thou outstripst me, thou'rt a nimble Racer.

[Lucia sees Shift.]

Oh, Madam, let's be gone: younder's Lieutenant Shift, who, if he sees us, will certainly give an Account of it to Mr. Beaumond. Let's get in thro the Garden, I have the Key.

Here's Company coming, and for several reasons I would not be seen.

[Offers to go.]

Gad, Child, nor I; Reputation is tender -- therefore prithee let's retire.

[Offers to go with her.]

You must not stir a step.

Not stir! no Magick Circle can detain me if you go.

Follow me then at a distance, and observe where I enter; and at night (if your Passion lasts so long) return, and you shall find Admittance into the Garden.

[Speaking hastily.]

[He runs out after her.]

[Enter Shift.]

Well, Sir, the Mountebank's come, and just going to begin in the Piazza; I have order'd Matters, that you shall have a Sight of the Monsters, and leave to court 'em, and when won, to give the Guardian a fourth part of the Portions.

Good: But Mum -- here's the Captain, who must by no means know our good Fortune, till he see us in State.

[Enter Willmore, Shift goes to him.]

All things are ready, Sir, for our Design, the House prepar'd as you directed me, the Guardian wrought upon by the Persuasions of the two Monsters, to take a Lodging there, and try the Bath of Reformation: The Bank's preparing, and the Operators and Musick all ready, and the impatient Town flockt together to behold the Man of Wonders, and nothing wanting but your Donship and a proper Speech.

'Tis well, I'll go fit my self with a Dress, and think of a Speech the while: In the mean time, go you and amuse the gaping Fools that expect my coming.

[Goes out.]

[Enter Fetherfool singing and dancing.]

Have you heard of a Spanish Lady, How she woo'd an English Man?

Why, how now, Fetherfool?

Garments gay, and rich as may be, Deckt with Jewels, had she on.

Why, how now, Justice, what run mad out of Dog-days?

Of a comely Countenance and Grace is she, A sweeter Creature in the World there could not be.

Why, what the Devil's the matter, Sir?

Stark mad, 'dshartlikins.

Of a Comely Countenance -- well, Lieutenant, the most heroick and illustrious Madona! Thou saw'st her, Ned: And of a comely Counte -- The most Magnetick Face -- well -- I knew the Charms of these Eyes of mine were not made in vain: I was design'd for great things, that's certain -- And a sweeter Creature in the World there could not be.

[Singing.]

What then the two Lady Monsters are forgotten? the Design upon the Million of Money, the Coach and Six, and Patent for Right Worshipful, all drown'd in the Joy of this new Mistress? -- But well, Lieutenant, since he is so well provided for, you may put in with me for a Monster; such a Jest, and such a Sum, is not to be lost.

Nor shall not, or I have lost my Aim.

[Aside.]

[Putting off his Hat.] Your Pardons, good Gentlemen; and tho I perceive I shall have no great need for so trifling a Sum as a hundred thousand Pound, or so, yet a Bargain's a Bargain, Gentlemen.

Nay, 'dsheartlikins, the Lieutenant scorns to do a foul thing, d'ye see, but we would not have the Monsters slighted.

Slighted! no, Sir, I scorn your Words, I'd have ye to know, that I have as high a Respect for Madam Monster, as any Gentleman in Christendom, and so I desire she should understand.

Why, this is that that's handsom.

Well, the Mountebank's come, Lodgings are taken at his House, and the Guardian prepar'd to receive you on the aforesaid Terms, and some fifty Pistoles to the Mountebank to stand your Friend, and the Business is done.

Which shall be perform'd accordingly, I have it ready about me.

And here's mine, put 'em together, and let's be speedy, lest some should bribe higher, and put in before us.

[Feth. takes the Money, and looks pitiful on't.]

Tis a plaguy round Sum, Ned, pray God it turn to Account.

Account, 'dsheartlikins, tis not in the Power of mortal Man to cozen 'me.

Oh fie, Sir, cozen you, Sir! -- well, you'll stay here and see the Mountebank, he's coming forth.

[A Hollowing. Enter from the Front a Bank, a Pageant, which they fix on the Stage at one side, a little Pavilion on't, Musick playing, and Operators round below, or Antickers.]

[Musick plays, and an Antick Dance.]

[Enter Willmore like a Mountebank, with a Dagger in one Hand, and a Viol in the other, Harlequin and Scaramouche; Carlo with other Spaniards below, and Rabble; Ariadne and Lucia above in the Balcony, others on the other side, Fetherfool and Blunt below.]

(bowing) Behold this little Viol, which contains in its narrow Bounds what the whole Universe cannot purchase, if sold to its true Value; this admirable, this miraculous Elixir, drawn from the Hearts of Mandrakes, Phenix Livers, and Tongues of Maremaids, and distill'd by contracted Sun-Beams, has besides the unknown Virtue of curing all Distempers both of Mind and Body, that divine one of animating the Heart of Man to that Degree, that however remiss, cold and cowardly by Nature, he shall become vigorous and brave. Oh stupid and insensible Man, when Honour and secure Renown invites you, to treat it with Neglect, even when you need but passive Valour, to become the Heroes of the Age; receive a thousand Wounds, each of which wou'd let out fleeting Life: Here's that can snatch the parting Soul in its full Career, and bring it back to its native Mansion; baffles grim Death, and disappoints even Fate.

Oh Pox, an a Man were sure of that now --

Behold, here's Demonstration --

[Harlequin stabs himself, and falls as dead.]

Hold, hold, why, what the Devil is the Fellow mad?

Why, do'st think he has hurt himself?

Hurt himself! why, he's murder'd, Man; 'tis flat Felo de se, in any ground in England, if I understand Law, and I have been a Justice o'th' Peace.

See, Gentlemen, he's dead --

Look ye there now, I'll be gone lest I be taken as an Accessary.

[Going out.]

Coffin him, inter him, yet after four and twenty Hours, as many Drops of this divine Elixir give him new Life again; this will recover whole Fields of slain, and all the Dead shall rise and fight again -- 'twas this that made the Roman Legions numerous, and now makes France so formidable, and this alone -- may be the Occasion of the loss of Germany.

[Pours in Harlequin's Wound, he rises.]

Why this Fellow's the Devil, Ned, that's for certain.

Oh plague, a damn'd Conjurer, this --

Come, buy this Coward's Comfort, quickly buy; what Fop would be abus'd, mimick'd and scorn'd, for fear of Wounds can be so easily cured? Who is't wou'd bear the Insolence and Pride of domineering great Men, proud Officers or Magistrates? or who wou'd cringe to Statesmen out of Fear? What Cully wou'd be cuckolded? What foolish Heir undone by cheating Gamesters? What Lord wou'd be lampoon'd? What Poet fear the Malice of his satirical Brother, or Atheist fear to fight for fear of Death? Come buy my Coward's Comfort, quickly buy.

Egad, Ned, a very excellent thing this; I'll lay out ten Reals upon this Commodity.

[They buy, whilst another Part of the Dance is danc'd.]

Behold this little Paper, which contains a Pouder, whose Value surmounts that of Rocks of Diamonds and Hills of Gold; 'twas this made Venus a Goddess, and was given her by Apollo, from her deriv'd to Helen, and in the Sack of Troy lost, till recover'd by me out of some Ruins of Asia. Come, buy it, Ladies, you that wou'd be fair and wear eternal Youth; and you in whom the amorous Fire remains, when all the Charms are fled: You that dress young and gay, and would be thought so, that patch and paint, to fill up sometimes old Furrows on your Brows, and set yourselves for Conquest, tho in vain; here's that will give you aubern Hair, white Teeth, red Lips, and Dimples on your Cheeks: Come, buy it all you that are past bewitching, and wou'd have handsom, young and active Lovers.

Another good thing, Ned.

I'll lay out a Pistole or two in this, if it have the same Effect on Men.

Come, all you City Wives, that wou'd advance your Husbands to Lord Mayors, come, buy of me new Beauty; this will give it tho now decay'd, as are your Shop Commodities; this will retrieve your Customers, and vend your false and out of fashion'd Wares: cheat, lye, protest and cozen as you please, a handsom Wife makes all a lawful Gain. Come, City Wives, come, buy.

A most prodigious Fellow!

[They buy, he sits, the other Part is danc'd.]

But here, behold the Life and Soul of Man! this is the amorous Pouder, which Venus made and gave the God of Love, which made him first a Deity; you talk of Arrows, Bow, and killing Darts; Fables, poetical Fictions, and no more: 'tis this alone that wounds and fires the Heart, makes Women kind, and equals Men to Gods; 'tis this that makes your great Lady doat on the ill-favour'd Fop; your great Man be jilted by his little Mistress, the Judge cajol'd by his Semstress, and your Politican by his Comedian; your young lady doat on her decrepid Husband, your Chaplain on my Lady's Waiting-Woman, and the young Squire on the Landry-Maid -- In fine, Messieurs,

'Tis this that cures the Lover's Pain,
And Celia of her cold Disdain.

A most devilish Fellow this!

Hold, shartlikins, Fetherfool, let's have a Dose or two of this Pouder for quick Dispatch with our Monsters.

Why Pox, Man, Jugg my Giant would swallow a whole Cart-Load before 'twould operate.

No hurt in trying a Paper or two however.

A most admirable Receit, I shall have need on't.

I need say nothing of my divine Baths of Reformation, nor the wonders of the old Oracle of the Box, which resolves all Questions, my Bills sufficiently declare their Virtue.

[Sits down. They buy.]

[Enter Petronella Elenora carried in a Chair, dress'd like a Girl of Fifteen.]

Room there, Gentlemen, room for a Patient.

Pray, Seignior, who may this be thus muzzl'd by old Gaffer Time?

One Petronella Elenora, Sir, a famous outworn Curtezan.

Elenora! she may be that of Troy for her Antiquity, tho fitter for God Priapus to ravish than Paris.

Hunt, a word; dost thou see that same formal Politician yonder, on the Jennet, the nobler Animal of the two?

What of him?

'Tis the same drew on the Captain this Morning, and I must revenge the Affront.

Have a care of Revenges in Spain, upon Persons of his Quality.

Nay, I'll only steal his Horse from under him.

Steal it! thou may'st take it by force perhaps; but how safely is a Question.

I'll warrant thee -- shoulder you up one side of his great Saddle, I'll do the like on t'other; then heaving him gently up, Harlequin shall lead the Horse from between his Worship's Legs: All this in the Crowd will not be perceiv'd, where all Eyes are imploy'd on the Mountebank.

I apprehend you now --

[Whilst they are lifting Petronella on the Mountebank's Stage, they go into the Crowd, shoulder up Carlo's Saddle. Harlequin leads the Horse forward, whilst Carlo is gazing, and turning up his Mustachios; they hold him up a little while, then let him drop: he rises and stares about for his Horse.]

This is flat Conjuration.

What's your Worship on foot?

I never saw his Worship on foot before.

Sirrah, none of your Jests, this must be by diabolical Art, and shall cost the Seignior dear -- Men of my Garb affronted -- my Jennet vanisht -- most miraculous -- by St. Jago, I'll be revenged -- hah, what's here -- La Nuche --

[Surveys her at a distance.]

[Enter La Nuche, Aurelia, Sancho.]

We are pursu'd by Beaumond, who will certainly hinder our speaking to Willmore, should we have the good fortune to see him in this Crowd -- and yet there's no avoiding him.

'Tis she, how carefully she shuns me!

I'm satisfied he knows us by the jealous Concern which appears in that prying Countenance of his.

Stay, Cruel, is it Love or Curiosity, that wings those nimble Feet?

[Holds her.]

[Lucia above and Ariadne.]

Beaumond with a Woman!

Have you forgot this is the glorious Day that ushers in the Night shall make you mine? the happiest Night that ever favour'd Love!

Or if I have, I find you'll take care to remember me.

Sooner I could forget the Aids of Life, sooner forget how first that Beauty charm'd me.

Well, since your Memory's so good, I need not doubt your coming.

Still cold and unconcern'd! How have I doated, and how sacrific'd, regardless of my Fame, lain idling here, when all the Youth of Spain were gaining Honour, valuing one Smile of thine above their Laurels!

And in return, I do submit to yield, preferring you above those fighting Fools, who safe in Multitudes reap Honour cheaper.

Yet there is one -- one of those fighting Fools which should'st thou see, I fear I were undone; brave, handsome, gay, and all that Women doat on, unfortunate in every good of Life, but that one Blessing of obtaining Women: Be wise, for if thou seest him thou art lost -- Why dost thou blush?

Because you doubt my Heart -- 'tis Willmore that he means. [Aside.] We've Eyes upon us, Don Carlo may grow jealous, and he's a powerful Rival -- at night I shall expect ye.

Whilst I prepare my self for such a Blessing.

[Ex. Beau.]

Hah! a Cavalier in conference with La Nuche! and entertain'd without my knowledge! I must prevent this Lover, for he's young -- and this Night will surprise her.

[Aside.]

And you would be restor'd?

[To Petro.]

Yes, if there be that Divinity in your Baths of Reformation.

There are.

New Flames shall sparkle in those Eyes;
And these grey Hairs flowing and bright shall rise:
These Cheeks fresh Buds of Roses wear,
And all your wither'd Limbs so smooth and clear,
As shall a general Wonder move,
And wound a thousand Hearts with Love.

A Blessing on you, Sir, there's fifty Pistoles for you, and as I earn it you shall have more.

[They lift her down.]

[Exit Willmore bowing.]

Messieurs, 'tis late, and the Seignior's Patients stay for him at his Laboratory, to morrow you shall see the conclusion of this Experiment, and so I humbly take my leave at this time.

[Enter Willmore, below sees La Nuche, makes up to her, whilst the last part of the Dance is dancing.]

What makes you follow me, Sir?

[She goes from him, he pursues.]

Madam, I see something in that lovely Face of yours, which if not timely prevented will be your ruin: I'm now in haste, but I have more to say --

[Goes off.]

Stay, Sir -- he's gone -- and fill'd me with a curiosity that will not let me rest till it be satisfied: Follow me, Aurelia, for I must know my Destiny.

[Goes out.]

[The Dance ended, the Bank removes, the People go off.]

Come, Ned, now for our amorous Visit to the two Lady Monsters.

[Ex. Feth. and Blunt.]

[Enter Ariadne and Lucia.]

I'm thoughtful: Prithee, Cousin, sing some foolish Song --

SONG.

Phillis, whose Heart was unconfin'd
And free as Flowers on Meads and Plains,
None boasted of her being kind,
'Mongst all the languishing and amorous Swains:

No Sighs nor Tears the Nymph could move

[bis.]

To pity or return their Love.

Till on a time, the hapless Maid
Retir'd to shun the heat o'th' Day,
Into a Grove, beneath whose Shade
Strephon, the careless Shepherd, sleeping lay:

But oh such Charms the Youth adorn,

[bis.]

Love is reveng'd for all her Scorn.

Her Cheeks with Blushes covered were,
And tender Sighs her Bosom warm;
A softness in her Eyes appear,
Unusual Pains she feels from every Charm:

To Woods and Ecchoes now she cries,

[bis.]

For Modesty to speak denies.

Come, help to undress me, for I'll to this Mountebank, to know what success I shall have with my Cavalier.

[Unpins her things before a great Glass that is fasten'd.]

You are resolv'd then to give him admittance?

Where's the danger of a handsom young Fellow?

But you don't know him, Madam.

But I desire to do, and time may bring it about without Miracle.

Your Cousin Beaumond will forbid the Banes.

No, nor old Carlos neither, my Mother's precious Choice, who is as sollicitous for the old Gentleman, as my Father-in-Law is for his Nephew. Therefore, Lucia, like a good and gracious Child, I'll end the Dispute between my Father and Mother, and please my self in the choice of this Stranger, if he be to be had.

I should as soon be enamour'd on the North Wind, a Tempest, or a Clap of Thunder. Bless me from such a Blast.

I'd have a Lover rough as Seas in Storms, upon occasion; I hate your dull temperate Lover, 'tis such a husbandly quality, like Beaumond's Addresses to me, whom neither Joy nor Anger puts in motion; or if it do, 'tis visibly forc'd -- I'm glad I saw him entertain a Woman to day, not that I care, but wou'd be fairly rid of him.

You'll hardly mend your self in this.

What, because he held Discourse with a Curtezan?

Why, is there no danger in her Eyes, do ye think?

None that I fear, that Stranger's not such a fool to give his Heart to a common Woman; and she that's concern'd where her Lover bestows his Body, were I the Man, I should think she had a mind to't her self.

And reason, Madam: in a lawful way 'tis your due.

What all? unconscionable Lucia! I am more merciful; but be he what he will, I'll to this cunning Man, to know whether ever any part of him shall be mine.

Lord, Madam, sure he's a Conjurer.

Let him be the Devil, I'll try his Skill, and to that end will put on a Suit of my Cousin Endymion; there are two or three very pretty ones of his in the Wardrobe, go carry 'em to my Chamber, and we'll fit our selves and away -- Go haste whilst I undress.

[Ex. Lucia.]

[Ariadne undressing before the Glass.]

[Enter Beaumond tricking himself, and looks on himself.]

Now for my charming Beauty, fair La Nuche -- hah -- Ariadne -- damn the dull Property, how shall I free my self?

[She turns, sees him, and walks from the Glass, he takes no notice of her, but tricks himself the Glass, humming a Song.]

Beaumond! What Devil brought him hither to prevent me? I hate the formal matrimonial Fop.

[He walks about and sings.]

Sommes nous pas trop heureux,
Belle Irise, que nous ensemble.

A Devil on him, he may chance to plague me till night, and hinder my dear Assignation.

[Sings again.]

La Nuit et le Sombre voiles
Coverie nos desires ardentes;
Et l' Amour et les Etoiles
Sont nos secrets confidents.

Pox on't, how dull am I at an excuse?

[Sets his Wig in the Glass, and sings.]

A Pox of Love and Woman-kind,
And all the Fops adore 'em.

[Puts on his Hat, cocks it, and goes to her.]

How is't, Cuz?

So, here's the saucy freedom of a Husband Lover -- a blest Invention this of marrying, whoe'er first found it out.

Damn this English Dog of a Perriwig-maker, what an ungainly Air it gives the Face, and for a Wedding Perriwig too -- how dost thou like it, Ariadne?

[Uneasy.]

As ill as the Man -- I perceive you have taken more care for your Perriwig than your Bride.

And with reason, Ariadne, the Bride was never the care of the Lover, but the business of the Parents; 'tis a serious Affair, and ought to be manag'd by the grave and wise: Thy Mother and my Uncle have agreed the Matter, and would it not look very sillily in me now to whine a tedious Tale of Love in your Ear, when the business is at an end? 'tis like saying a Grace when a Man should give Thanks.

Why did you not begin sooner then?

Faith, Ariadne, because I know nothing of the Design in hand; had I had civil warning, thou shouldst have had as pretty smart Speeches from me, as any Coxcomb Lover of 'em all could have made thee.

I shall never marry like a Jew in my own Tribe; I'll rather be possest by honest old doating Age, than by saucy conceited Youth, whose Inconstancy never leaves a Woman safe or quiet.

You know the Proverb of the half Loaf, Ariadne; a Husband that will deal thee some Love is better than one who can give thee none: you would have a blessed time on't with old Father Carlo.

No matter, a Woman may with some lawful excuse cuckold him, and 'twould be scarce a Sin.

Not so much as lying with him, whose reverend Age wou'd make it look like Incest.

But to marry thee -- would be a Tyranny from whence there's no Appeal: A drinking whoring Husband! 'tis the Devil --

You are deceiv'd, if you think Don Carlo more chaste than I; only duller, and more a Miser, one that fears his Flesh more, and loves his Money better. -- Then to be condemn'd to lie with him -- oh, who would not rejoice to meet a Woollen-Waistcoat, and knit Night-Cap without a Lining, a Shirt so nasty, a cleanly Ghost would not appear in't at the latter Day? then the compound of nasty Smells about him, stinking Breath, Mustachoes stuft with villainous snush, Tobacco, and hollow Teeth: thus prepar'd for Delight, you meet in Bed, where you may lie and sigh whole Nights away, he snores it out till Morning, and then rises to his sordid business.

All this frights me not: 'tis still much better than a keeping Husband, whom neither Beauty nor Honour in a Wife can oblige.

Oh, you know not the good-nature of a Man of Wit, at least I shall bear a Conscience, and do thee reason, which Heaven denies to old Carlo, were he willing.

Oh, he talks as high, and thinks as well of himself as any young Coxcomb of ye all.

He has reason, for if his Faith were no better than his Works, he'd be damn'd.

Death, who wou'd marry, who wou'd be chaffer'd thus, and sold to Slavery? I'd rather buy a Friend at any Price that I could love and trust.

Ay, could we but drive on such a Bargain.

You should not be the Man; You have a Mistress, Sir, that has your Heart, and all your softer Hours: I know't, and if I were so wretched as to marry thee, must see my Fortune lavisht out on her; her Coaches, Dress, and Equipage exceed mine by far: Possess she all the day thy Hours of Mirth, good Humour and Expence, thy Smiles, thy Kisses, and thy Charms of Wit. Oh how you talk and look when in her Presence! but when with me, A Pox of Love and Woman-kind,

[Sings.]

And all the Fops adore 'em.

How it's, Cuz -- then slap, on goes the Beaver, which being cock'd, you bear up briskly, with the second Part to the same Tune -- Harkye, Sir, let me advise you to pack up your Trumpery and be gone, your honourable Love, your matrimonial Foppery, with your other Trinkets thereunto belonging; or I shall talk aloud, and let your Uncle hear you.

Sure she cannot know I love La Nuche.

[Aside.]

The Devil take me, spoil'd! What Rascal has inveigled thee? What lying fawning coward has abus'd thee? When fell you into this Leudness? Pox, thou art hardly worth the loving now, that canst be such a Fool, to wish me chaste, or love me for that Virtue; or that wouldst have me a ceremonious help, one that makes handsom Legs to Knights without laughing, or with a sneaking modest Squirish Countenance; assure you, I have my Maidenhead. A Curse upon thee, the very thought of Wife has made thee formal.

I must dissemble, or he'll stay all day to make his peace again -- why, have you ne'er -- a Mistress then?

A hundred, by this day, as many as I like, they are my Mirth, the business of my loose and wanton Hours; but thou art my Devotion, the grave, the solemn Pleasure of my Soul -- Pox, would I were handsomly rid of thee too.

[Aside.]

-- Come, I have business -- send me pleas'd away.

Would to Heaven thou wert gone;

[Aside.]

You're going to some Woman now.

Oh damn the Sex, I hate 'em all -- but thee -- farewell, my pretty jealous -- sullen -- Fool.

[Goes out.]

Farewel, believing Coxcomb.

[Enter Lucia.]

Madam, the Clothes are ready in your Chamber.

Let's haste and put 'em on then.

[Runs out.]

[Enter Fetherfool and Blunt, staring about, after them Shift.]

Well, Gentlemen, this is the Doctor's House, and your fifty Pistoles has made him intirely yours; the Ladies too are here in safe Custody -- Come, draw Lots who shall have the Dwarf, and who the Giant.

[They draw.]

I have the Giant.

And I the little tiny Gentlewoman.

Well, you shall first see the Ladies, and then prepare for your Uncle Moses, the old Jew Guardian, before whom you must be very grave and sententious: You know the old Law was full of Ceremony.

Well, I long to see the Ladies, and to have the first Onset over.

I'll cause 'em to walk forth immediately.

[Goes out.]

My Heart begins to fail me plaguily -- would I could see 'em a little at a Distance before they come slap dash upon a Man.

[Peeping.]

Hah! -- Mercy upon us! -- What's yonder! -- Ah, Ned my Monster is as big as the Whore of Babylon -- Oh I'm in a cold Sweat --

[Blunt pulls him to peep, and both do so.]

Oh Lord! she's as tall as the St. Christopher in Notre-dame at Paris, and the little one looks like the Christo upon his Shoulders -- I shall ne'er be able to stand the first Brunt.

'Dsheartlikins, whither art going?

[Pulls him back.]

Why only -- to -- say my Prayers a little -- I'll be with thee presently.

[Offers to go, he pulls him.]

What a Pox, art thou afraid of a Woman --

Not of a Woman, Ned, but of a She Gargantua, I am of a Hercules in Petticoats.

The less Resemblance the better. 'Shartlikins, I'd rather mine were a Centaur than a Woman: No, since my Naples Adventure, I am clearly for your Monster.

Prithee, Ned, there's Reason in all things --

But villainous Woman -- 'Dshartlikins, stand your Ground, or I'll nail you to't: Why, what a Pox are you so quezy stomach'd, a Monster won't down with you, with a hundred thousand Pound to boot.

[Pulling him.]

Nay, Ned, that mollifies something; and I scorn it should be said of Nich. Fetherfool that he left his Friend in danger, or did an ill thing: therefore, as thou say'st, Ned, tho she were a Centaur, I'll not budg an Inch.

Why God a Mercy.

[Enter the Giant and Dwarf, with them Shift as an Operator, and Harlequin attending.]

Oh -- they come -- Prithee, Ned, advance --

[Puts him forward.]

Most beautiful Ladies.

Why, what a flattering Son of a Whore's this?

These are the illustrious Persons your Uncle designs your humble Servants, and who have so extraordinary a Passion for your Seignioraships.

Oh yes, a most damnable one: Wou'd I were cleanlily off the Lay, and had my Money again.

Think of a Million, Rogue, and do not hang an Arse thus.

What, does the Cavalier think I'll devour him?

[To Shift.]

Something inclin'd to such a Fear.

Go and salute her, or, Adsheartlikins, I'll leave you to her Mercy.

Oh, dear Ned, have pity on me -- but as for saluting her, you speak of more than may be done, dear Heart, without a Scaling Ladder.

[Exit Shift.]

Sure, Seignior Harlequin, these Gentlemen are dumb.

No, my little diminutive Mistress, my small Epitomy of Woman-kind, we can prattle when our Hands are in, but we are raw and bashful, young Beginners; for this is the first time we ever were in love: we are something aukard, or so, but we shall come on in time, and mend upon Incouragement.

Pox on him, what a delicate Speech has he made now -- 'Gad, I'd give a thousand Pounds a Year for Ned's concise Wit, but not a Groat for his Judgment in Womankind.

Enter Shift with a Ladder, sets it against the Giant, and bows to Fetherfool.

Here, Seignior, Don, approach, mount, and salute the Lady.

Mount! why, 'twould turn my Brains to look down from her Shoulders -- But hang't, 'Gad, I will be brave and venture.

[Runs up the Ladder, salutes her, and runs down again. And Egad this was an Adventure and a bold one -- but since I am come off with a whole Skin, I am flesht for the next onset -- Madam -- has your Greatness any mind to marry?]

[Goes to her, speaks, and runs back; Blunt claps him on the Back.]

What if have?

Why then, Madam, without inchanted Sword or Buckler, I'm your Man.

My Man? my Mouse. I'll marry none whose Person and Courage shall not bear some Proportion to mine.

Your Mightiness I fear will die a Maid then.

I doubt you'll scarce secure me from that Fear, who court my Fortune, not my Beauty.

Hu, how scornful she is, I'll warrant you -- why I must confess, your Person is something heroical and masculine, but I protest to your Highness, I love and honour ye.

Prithee, Sister, be not so coy, I like my Lover well enough; and if Seignior Mountebank keep his Word in making us of reasonable Proportions, I think the Gentlemen may serve for Husbands.

Dissemble, or you betray your Love for us.

[Aside to the Giant.]

And if he do keep his Word, I should make a better Choice, not that I would change this noble Frame of mine, cou'd I but meet my Match, and keep up the first Race of Man intire: But since this scanty World affords none such, I to be happy, must be new created, and then shall expect a wiser Lover.

Why, what a peevish Titt's this; nay? look ye, Madam, as for that matter, your Extraordinariness may do what you please -- but 'tis not done like a Monster of Honour, when a Man has set his Heart upon you, to cast him off -- Therefore I hope you'll pity a despairing Lover, and cast down an Eye of Consolation upon me; for I vow, most Amazonian Princess, I love ye as if Heaven and Earth wou'd come together.

My Sister will do much, I'm sure, to save the Man that loves her so passionately -- she has a Heart.

And a swinger 'tis -- 'Sbud -- she moves like the Royal Sovereign, and is as long a tacking about.

[Aside.]

Then your Religion, Sir.

Nay, as for that, Madam, we are English, a Nation I thank God, that stand as little upon Religion as any Nation under the Sun, unless it be in Contradiction; and at this time have so many amongst us, a Man knows not which to turn his Hand to -- neither will I stand with your Hugeness for a small matter of Faith or so -- Religion shall break no squares.

I hope, Sir, you are of your Friend's Opinion.

My little Spark of a Diamond, I am, I was born a Jew, with an Aversion to Swines Flesh.

Well, Sir, I shall hasten Seignior Doctor to compleat my Beauty, by some small Addition, to appear the more grateful to you.

Lady, do not trouble yourself with transitory Parts, 'Dshartlikins thou'rt as handsom as needs be for a Wife.

A little taller, Seignior, wou'd not do amiss, my younger Sister has got so much the Start of me.

In troth she has, and now I think on't, a little taller wou'd do well for Propagation; I should be loth the Posterity of the antient Family of the Blunts of Essex should dwindle into Pigmies or Fairies.

Well, Seigniors, since you come with our Uncle's liking, we give ye leave to hope, hope -- and be happy --

[They go out with Harlequin.]

Egad, and that's great and gracious --

[Enter Willmore and an Operator.]

Well, Gentlemen, and how like you the Ladies?

Faith, well enough for the first Course, Sir.

The Uncle, by my indeavour, is intirely yours -- but whilst the Baths are preparing, 'twould be well if you would think of what Age, Shape, and Complexion you would have your Ladies form'd in.

Why, may we chuse, Mr. Doctor?

What Beauties you please.

Then will I have my Giant, Ned, just such another Gentlewoman as I saw at Church to day -- and about some fifteen.

Hum, fifteen -- I begin to have a plaguy Itch about me too, towards a handsome Damsel of fifteen; but first let's marry, lest they should be boiled away in these Baths of Reformation.

But, Doctor, can you do all this without the help of the Devil?

Hum, some small Hand he has in the Business? we make an Exchange with him, give him the clippings of the Giant for so much of his Store as will serve to build the Dwarf.

Why, then mine will be more than three Parts Devil, Mr. Doctor.

Not so, the Stock is only Devil, the Graft is your own little Wife inoculated.

Well, let the Devil and you agree about this matter as soon as you please.

Enter Shift as an Operator.

Sir, there is without a Person of an extraordinary Size wou'd speak with you.

Admit him.

[Enter Harlequin, ushers in Hunt as a Giant.]

Hah -- some o'ergrown Rival, on my Life.

[Feth. gets from it.]

What the Devil have we here?

[Aside.]

Bezolos mano's, Seignior, I understand there is a Lady whose Beauty and Proportion can only merit me: I'll say no more -- but shall be grateful to you for your Assistance.

'Tis so.

The Devil's in't if this does not fright 'em from a farther Courtship.

[Aside.]

Fear nothing, Seignior -- Seignior, you may try your Chance, and visit the Ladies.

[Talks to Hunt.]

Why, where the Devil could this Monster conceal himself all this while, that we should neither see nor hear of him?

Oh -- he lay disguis'd; I have heard of an Army that has done so.

Pox, no single House cou'd hold him.

No -- he dispos'd himself in several parcels up and down the Town, here a Leg, and there an Arm; and hearing of this proper Match for him, put himself together to court his fellow Monster.

Good Lord! I wonder what Religion he's of.

Some heathen Papist, by his notable Plots and Contrivances.

'Tis Hunt, that Rogue --

[Aside.]

Sir, I confess there is great Power in Sympathy -- Conduct him to the Ladies --

[He tries to go in at the Door.]

-- I am sorry you cannot enter at that low Door, Seignior, I'll have it broken down --

No, Seignior, I can go in at twice.

How, at twice! what a Pox can he mean?

Oh, Sir, 'tis a frequent thing by way of Inchantment

[Hunt being all Doublet, leaps off from another Man who is all Breeches, and goes out; Breeches follows stalking.]

Oh Pox, Mr. Doctor, this must be the Devil.

Oh fie, Sir, the Devil! no 'tis all done inchanted Girdle -- These damn'd Rascals will spoil all by too gross an Imposition on the Fools.

[Aside.]

This is the Devil, Ned, that's certain -- But hark ye, Mr. Doctor, I hope I shall not have my Mistress inchanted from me by this inchanted Rival, hah?

Oh, no, Sir, the Inquisition will never let 'em marry, for fear of a Race of Giants, 'twill be worse than the Invasion of the Moors, or the French: but go -- think of your Mistresses Names and Ages, here's Company, and you would not be seen.

[Ex. Blunt and Feth.]

[Enter La Nuche and Aurelia; Will. bows to her.]

Sir, the Fame of your excellent Knowledge, and what you said to me this day; has given me a Curiosity to learn my Fate, at least that Fate you threatened.

Madam, from the Oracle in the Box you may be resolved any Question --

[Leads her to the Table, where stands a Box full of Balls; he stares on her.]

-- How lovely every absent minute makes her -- Madam, be pleas'd to draw from out this Box what Ball you will.

[She draws, he takes it, and gazes on her and on it.]

Madam, upon this little Globe is character'd your Fate and Fortune; the History of your Life to come and past -- first, Madam -- you're -- a Whore.

A very plain beginning.

My Art speaks simple Truth; the Moon is your Ascendent, that covetous Planet that borrows all her Light, and is in opposition still to Venus; and Interest more prevails with you than Love: yet here I find a cross -- intruding Line -- that does inform me -- you have an Itch that way, but Interest still opposes: you are a slavish mercenary Prostitute.

Your Art is so, tho call'd divine, and all the Universe is sway'd by Interest: and would you wish this Beauty which adorns me, should be dispos'd about for Charity? Proceed and speak more Reason.

But Venus here gets the Ascent again, and spite of -- Interest, spite of all Aversion, will make you doat upon a Man --

[Still looking on, and turning the Ball.]

Wild, fickle, restless, faithless as the Winds! -- a Man of Arms he is -- and by this Line -- a Captain --

[Looking on her.]

for Mars and Venus were in conjunction at his Birth -- and Love and War's his business.

There thou hast toucht my Heart, and spoke so true, that all thou say'st I shall receive as Oracle. Well, grant I love, that shall not make me yield.

I must confess you're ruin'd if you yield, and yet not all your Pride, not all your Vows, your Wit, your Resolution, or your Cunning, can hinder him from conquering absolutely: your Stars are fixt, and Fate irrevocable.

No, -- I will controul my Stars and Inclinations; and tho I love him more than Power or Interest, I will be Mistress of my fixt Resolves -- One Question more -- Does this same Captain, this wild happy Man love me?

I do not -- find -- it here -- only a possibility incourag'd by your Love -- Oh that you cou'd resist -- but you are destin'd his, and to be ruin'd.

[Sighs, and looks on her, she grows in a Rage.]

Why do you tell me this? I am betray'd, and every caution blows my kindling Flame -- hold -- tell me no more -- I might have guess'd my Fate, from my own Soul have guest it -- but yet I will be brave, I will resist in spite of Inclinations, Stars, or Devils.

Strive not, fair Creature, with the Net that holds you, you'll but intangle more. Alas! you must submit and be undone.

Damn your false Art -- had he but lov'd me too, it had excus'd the Malice of my Stars.

Indeed, his Love is doubtful; for here -- I trace him in a new pursuit -- which if you can this Night prevent, perhaps you fix him.

Hah, pursuing a new Mistress! there thou hast met the little Resolution I had left, and dasht it into nothing -- but I have vow'd Allegiance to my Interest -- Curse on my Stars, they cou'd not give me Love where that might be advanc'd -- I'll hear no more.

[Gives him Money. Enter Shift.]

[Enter Shift.]

Sir, there are several Strangers arriv'd, who talk of the old Oracle. How will you receive 'em?

I've business now, and must be excus'd a while. -- Thus far -- I'm well; but I may tell my Tale so often o'er, till, like the Trick of Love, I spoil the pleasure by the repetition. -- Now I'll uncase, and see what Effects my Art has wrought on La Nuche, for she's the promis'd Good, the Philosophick Treasure that terminates my Toil and Industry. Wait you here.

[Ex. Will.]

[Enter Ariadne in Mens Clothes, with Lucia so drest, and other Strangers.]

How now, Seignior Operator, where's this renowned Man of Arts and Sciences, this Don of Wonders? -- hah! may a Man have a Pistole's Worth or two of his Tricks? will he shew, Seignor?

Whatever you dare see, Sir.

And I dare see the greatest Bug-bear he can conjure up, my Mistress's Face in a Glass excepted.

That he can shew, Sir, but is now busied in weighty Affairs with a Grandee.

Pox, must we wait the Leisure of formal Grandees and Statesmen -- ha, who's this? -- the lovely Conqueress of my Heart, La Nuche.

[Goes to her, she is talking with Aurel.]

What foolish thing art thou?