Chapter I: Part 1

The Augustan Reprint Society

JOSEPH HARRIS

_The City Bride_

(1696)

With an Introduction by Vinton A. Dearing

Publication Number 36

Los Angeles William Andrews Clark Memorial Library University of California 1952

GENERAL EDITORS

H. RICHARD ARCHER, _Clark Memorial Library_ RICHARD C. BOYS, _University of Michigan_ ROBERT S. KINSMAN, _University of California, Los Angeles_ JOHN LOFTIS, _University of California, Los Angeles_

ASSISTANT EDITOR

W. EARL BRITTON, _University of Michigan_

ADVISORY EDITORS

EMMETT L. AVERY, _State College of Washington_ BENJAMIN BOYCE, _Duke University_ LOUIS BREDVOLD, _University of Michigan_ JAMES L. CLIFFORD, _Columbia University_ ARTHUR FRIEDMAN, _University of Chicago_ EDWARD NILES HOOKER, _University of California, Los Angeles_ LOUIS A. LANDA, _Princeton University_ SAMUEL H. MONK, _University of Minnesota_ ERNEST MOSSNER, _University of Texas_ JAMES SUTHERLAND, _University College, London_ H. T. SWEDENBERG, JR., _University of California, Los Angeles_

CORRESPONDING SECRETARY

EDNA C. DAVIS, _Clark Memorial Library_

INTRODUCTION

_The City Bride_, by Joseph Harris, is of special interest as the only adaptation from the canon of John Webster to have come upon the stage in the Restoration. Nahum Tate's _Injur'd Love: or, The Cruel Husband_ is an adaptation of _The White Devil_, but it was never acted and was not printed until 1707. _The City Bride_ is taken from _A Cure for a Cuckold_, in which William Rowley and perhaps Thomas Heywood collaborated with Webster. F. L. Lucas, Webster's most recent and most scholarly editor, remarks that _A Cure for a Cuckold_ is one of the better specimens of Post-Elizabethan romantic comedy. In particular, the character of the bride, Annabel (Arabella in Harris's adaptation), has a universal appeal. _The City Bride_, a very close copy of its original, retains its virtues, and has some additional virtues of its own.

Not much is known of its author, Joseph Harris. Genest first notices him as playing Bourcher, the companion of a French pirate, in _A Common-Wealth of Women_. Thomas Durfey's alteration of _The Sea Voyage_ from the Beaumont and Fletcher folio, which was produced about September 1685. His subsequent roles were of a similar calibre, but if he never rose to be a star he seems to have become a valued supporting player, for in 1692 he was chosen to join the royal "comedians in ordinary." He did not at first side with Thomas Betterton in his quarrel with the patentees of the theatre in 1694-5, but he withdrew with him to Lincoln's Inn Fields. Genest notices him for the last time as playing Sir Richard Vernon in Betterton's adaptation of _1 Henry IV_, which was produced about April 1700.

During his career on the stage Harris found time to compose a tragi-comedy, _The Mistakes, or, The False Report_ (1691), produced in December 1690; _The City Bride_, produced in 1696; and a comedy and a masque, _Love's a Lottery, and a Woman the Prize. With a New Masque, call'd Love and Riches Reconcil'd_ (1699), produced about March 1698/9. _The Mistakes_ is clearly apprentice work, for Harris acknowledges in a preface the considerable help of William Mountfort, who took the part of the villain, Ricardo. Mountfort, who had already written three plays himself, cut one of the scenes intended for the fifth act and inserted one of his own composition (probably the last) which not only clarified the plot but also elevated the character of the part he was to play. The company seems to have done its best by the budding dramatist, for Dryden wrote the prologue, a rather unusual one in prose and verse, and Tate supplied the epilogue. Harris professed himself satisfied with the play's reception, but owned that it was Mountfort's acting which really carried it off.

_The City Bride_, on the other hand, shows its author completely self-assured, and rightly so. No doubt some of his ease comes from the fact that he had nothing to invent, but in large part it must derive from his ten-years' experience on the stage. Harris added nothing to the plot of _The City Bride_, although he commendably shifted its emphasis, as his title makes clear, from infidelity to fidelity; but he rewrote the dialogue almost completely, and the new dialogue is remarkable good. The reader will notice that it is, except for the last half of the first act, printed as prose. The quarto of _A Cure for a Cuckold_, from which Harris worked, is also largely printed as prose, but has correct verse lineation in the same portion of the first act. It is the more remarkable that Harris, following thus closely the apparent form of his original, could vary from it so successfully. Most notable, probably, are the passages in which he intensified the expression of his source. They may indicate no more than the eternal "ham" in our author; but I think they probably indicate as well a new style of acting, more rhetorical in one way, more natural in another. A good example, in which the new rhetoric is not oppressive, is the account of the sea fight at the end of Act III. Even when Harris followed his original most closely, we seem to hear the actor, speaking in a new tongue, in a more relaxed and colloquial rhythm. The reader will find it both amusing and instructive to compare the two versions of Act II, scene ii. The new cadences do more than merely prove that Harris had no ear for blank verse.

_The City Bride_ does not conform to the dominant type of Restoration comedy, but it belongs to a thriving tradition. Domestic comedy, in adaptations from the Elizabethans, had been staged at intervals for twenty years before _The City Bride_ appeared, and the type was of course destined to supplant gay comedy in the near future. Harris was not, therefore, going against the taste of the town; on the contrary he was regularly guided by contemporary taste and practice. His stage is less crowded: he amalgamated the four gallants of _A Cure for a Cuckold_ in the person of Mr. Spruce, at the expense of a dramatic scene (I, ii, 31-125); and he ended the sub-plot with the fourth act instead of bringing its persons into the final scene, with some loss of liveliness and a concomitant gain in unity of effect. He modernized his dialogue entirely, bringing up to date the usage and allusions of his original, and restraining the richness of its metaphor by removing the figures altogether or by substituting others more familiar. He omitted a good deal of bawdry, especially in Act II, scene ii. All these changes have parallels in other Restoration adaptations. Again, the songs and dances, which are all of Harris's composition, reflect the demand of the Restoration audience for excitement, variety, novelty, in their dramatic fare. When in Act III, scene i, Harris meets this demand by making Bonvile bare his breast to Friendly's sword, and Friendly a little later grovel at Bonvile's feet for pardon, we may condemn the new business as bathetic; but when in Act IV, scene i, he substitutes for Webster's emaciated jokes the bustle of drawers, the sound of the bar bell, and healths all around, we can only applaud the change.

We must also commend Harris for supplying a consistent and relatively believable motivation for the main action. In both _A Cure for a Cuckold_ and _The City Bride_, Clare (Clara) begins the action by giving her suitor, Lessingham (Friendly), a cryptic message: he is to determine who his best friend is and kill him. In _A Cure for a Cuckold_, it is never made clear whether the victim should have been Bonvile or Clare herself (she apparently intended to trick Lessingham into poisoning her). This uncertainty has only recently been noticed by students of the drama, who have been forced to emend the text at IV, ii, 165 (see Lucas's note on the passage). Harris's solution is simpler. He will have nothing to do with either murder or suicide. Clara explains to Friendly that the best friend of a lover is love itself.

This is not the place to enumerate all the differences between _A Cure for a Cuckold_ and _The City Bride_; indeed the reader may prefer making the comparisons for himself. Harris's alterations follow the general pattern of Restoration adaptations from the earlier drama, it is true. On the other hand, a relatively small number of such plays allow us to see the professional actor feeling his way through the emotions and actions of the scenes. To compare a play like _The City Bride_ with its source is like visiting the rehearsals of an acting company of the time. Such a play has an immediacy and liveness that strongly appeals to those who delight to image forth the past.

_The City Bride_ has never been reprinted. The present edition reproduces, with permission, the copy in the Henry E. Huntington Library, omitting Harris's signed dedication to Sir John Walter, Bart., on A2^r-A3^r (A1^v in the original is blank). The top line on page 44, which is partly cut away, reads: _Cla._ Who (if thou ever lov'dst me ...

Vinton A. Dearing University of California Los Angeles

THE CITY BRIDE:

OR,

The Merry Cuckold.

A COMEDY,

Acted at the New Theatre, in _Little Lincolns Inn-Fields._

BY

His Majesty's Servants.

_First Edition._

_Spero Meliora._

LONDON:

Printed for _A. Roper_ and _E. Wilkinson_ at the _Black-Boy_, and R. _Clavel_ at the _Peacock_, in _Fleet-street_. 1696.

PROLOGUE:

_Spoke by Mr._ THURMOND.

_Three Ways there are, and all accounted fair,
To gain your Favour: Begging, Borrowing, Prayer.
If as a Beggar, I your Alms implore }
Methinks your Charity shou'd aid the Poor; }
Besides, I never beg'd of you before. }
If I address by Prayer, and loud Complaints
I then oblige yee, for I make you Saints;
And sure none here can think it Superstition,
To pray to Saints that are of no Religion!
If Invocation will not do my Work,
A Man may borrow of a_ Jew _or_ Turk;
_Pray lend me Gentlemen your Applause and Praise,
I'll take it for as good as Currant Bays;
And if I ne're repay it, 'tis no more,
Than many of you Sparks have done before:
With this distinction, that you ran indebt
For want of Money, we for want of Wit.
In vain I plead! a Man as soon may get
Mill'd Silver, as one favour from the Pit.
----Hold then----now I think on't,
I'll e'en turn Thief, and steal your kind Affection,
And when I've got your Hearts, claim your protection:
You can't convict me sure for such a crime,
Since neither Mare nor Lap-dog, I purloin:
While you Rob Ladies Bosoms every day, }
And filch their pretious Maiden-heads away; }
I'll plead good nature for this Brat the Play: }
A Play that plagues no more the thread-bare Theme
Of powder'd Beaux, or tricks o'th' Godly Dame,
But in your humours let's ye all alone,
And not so much as Fools themselves runs down.
Our Author try'd his best, and Wisemen tell,
'Tis half well doing to endeavour well:
What tho' his poor Allay runs not so fine;
Yet, let it pass as does our present Coin;
For wanting fairer Ore, and riches mould
He stamps in Brass, what others print in Gold:
Smile on him but this time, the next perhaps,
If he guess right he may deserve your Claps._

Dramatis Personae.

|Bonvile, _The Bridegroom_. |_Mr._ Boman. |
|Friendly, _His Friend, in Love with_ Clara. |_Mr._ Thurmond. |
|Justice Merryman, _Father to_ Arabella. |_Mr._ Bright. |
|Summerfield, _A Gentleman, but Younger Brother, | |
| necessitated to take the High-Way_. |_Mr._ Scudemore.|
|_Mr._ Ventre, _A Merchant._ |_Mr._ Arnold. |
|_Mr._ Spruce, _A City Beau._ |_Mr._ Bayly. |
|Compasse, _A Master of a Vessel._ |_Mr._ Freeman. |
|A Councellor. |_Mr._ Davis. |
|Pettifog, } |_Mr._ Trefusis. |
| } _Two Attorneys._ | |
|Dodge, } |_Mr._ Eldred. |
| | |
|_Sailers, Neighbours, Drawers, Servants, Boys, | |
| Singers and Dancers._ | |
| | |
|Arabella, _The Bride_. |_Mrs._ Boman. |
|Clara, _Friendly's Mistriss, but secretly in Love | |
| with_ Bonvile. |_Mrs._ Boutell. |
|_Mrs._ Ventre, _The Merchant's Wife_. |_Mrs._ Lacy. |
|Peg, _Compasses Wife_. |_Mrs._ Perin. |
|Nurse. |_Mrs._ Lawson. |
|Lucy, Clara's _Maid_. |_Miss_ Prince. |
| | |
|_Women Neighbours._ | |

SCENE _London_.

THE CITY BRIDE: OR, THE Merry Cuckold.

ACT I. SCENE the I.

_The Curtain draws up, and discovers several sitting at a Banquet.
An Entertainment of Instrumental Musick, Compos'd by Signior_
Finger: _Then a Song, set by Mr._ John Eccles, _and Sung by Young_
La Roche.

SONG.

_Many I've lik'd, and some Enjoy'd,
But if I said I Lov'd, I ly'd.
Inconstant as the wandring Bee,
From once touch'd Sweets I us'd to flee;
Nor all the Power of Female Skill,
Cou'd curb the freedom of my Will:_
Clarinda _only found the Art,
To Conquer and so keep my Heart._

[_After this a Dance, and then the Scene shuts._

Enter_ Friendly _and_ Clara.

_Friend._ This is a Day of Mirth and Jollity my _Clara_.

_Clara._ 'Tis so, for such as can be merry, Mr. _Friendly_.

_Friend._ Why not for us my Love, we have a Noble President, and methinks shou'd Imitate (thro Envy) this their happiness.

_Clara._ I am not of your Opinion.

_Friend._ Why not my Fair?

_Clara._ I'll tell you, because I purpose not to Marry.

_Fri._ Prithee be serious, and reform that Thought: Think of my past Service, and judge by that my future; weigh all the respect I have paid you long, and ever lov'd you beyond my self.

_Cla._ I know your Weakness, and will reward it too.

_Fri._ I am sure you will, you must be kind; And can you think an Answer of this killing Nature, a just return for all my faithful Love?

_Cla._ As to that I have already said.

_Fri._ Oh speak, from whence this Coldness doth arise! Be at least so kind as to tell me that; Is it some late Disgust you have conceived of my Person; or rather your desire, (I fear) of some unworthier, happy Creature, base in the Attempt, as you unkind in thinking of a Change; if neither.

_I must impute it to your Woman's Will,
Still pleased with what it fancies, Good or Ill._

_Cla._ Be't what it will, thus it is, and with this Answer pray rest satisfied; there is but one way ever to win me and draw me unto Marriage, which whosoever finds, 'tis like he may have me, if not, I am still my own.

_Fri._ Oh name it then! Thou dearest Treasure of my Life! my Soul! my All! I am in a maze of Extasie, to think there's any means to gain you, and hope you'l be so kind to tell me how I may be happy.

_Cla._ I'll retire a while; and with my self resolve what must be done, and in the end send you my Resolution.

[_Exit_ Clara.

_Fri._ I'll here expect it: What more can I desire, than now be satisfied and know my Dooom.

_Suspence is the worst Torment we endure,
'Tis Knowledge make the Wound both safe and sure._

_Enter_ Spruce _and_ _Mr._ Venter.

_Spru._ How now _Jack_! What all alone Man?

_Fri._ No, for I have heard some say, Men are ne're less alone, then when alone. The reason I suppose is this, because they have Crowds of Thoughts, that still perplex the Mind; which wou'd be, like the Soul retired and free, thereby to enjoy that sweet repose, which nought but that can Grant.

_Spru._ Pshaw! Pox of this Morality and dull Stuff; Prithee let us be Merry, and Entertain the Bride and Bridegroom. Ods fish there a parcel of rare Creatures within! But of all Mrs. _Clara_ for my Money.

_Mr. Ven._ And truly, I am of your Opinion Mr. _Spruce_; for setting aside her present Melancholly and Discontent, I think she is beyond Comparison with any other.

_Spr._ Od's nigs, I know the Cause of her Disorder.

_Ven._ What I pray?

_Spr._ Why, I'll tell ye; In all Conditions of Estates, Professions, and Degrees, in Arts or Sciences, yee know there's a kind of Envious Emulation.

_Mr. Ven._ Right.

_Spr._ So in this of _Arabella_'s Marrying; for _Clara_ being Lady of much the same Birth and Quality, Grieves I--suppose to see her Rival get the start of her.

_Mr. Ven._ Troth like enough.

_Fri._ Y'are Pleasant Gentlemen--Or else because she having had so many Courtiers----

_Spr._ And you among the rest _Jack_.

_Fri._ She now perhaps does cast a more favourable Eye upon some one that does not like her.

_Spr._ Why Faith, and that may be too.

_Enter_ Lucy _with a Letter._

_Lucy._ Sir, my Mistriss presents her humble Service to you, and has sent you this Letter; pray Heaven it be to your liking Sir.

_Fri._ I thank the kind _Lucy_: There, there's for the Postage Girle: [_Gives her Money._] She has kept her Promise for once I see; I'm resolved to read it, tho I were sure my Death was Comprehended in it.

Reads. _Try all your Friends, and find out the best and nearest to
your Heart, That done, be sure to kill him for my sake. This fail
not to do, if you respect and Love (as you pretend.)_

Clara.

'Tis as I fear'd, and what I know she most desires: Mischief, and Murder, are all her Sexes Practice, and Delight? Yet such is the Extravagancy of my Passion, I must obey the Mandate, tho to my certain Ruine: 'Tis strangely difficult, and does require Mature Deliberation.

[_Exit._

_Spr._ What has _Friendly_ left us?

_Mr. Ven._ I believe the Letter was the occasion, it may be it was a Challenge.

_Spr._ A Challenge! No, no; Women don't use to bring Challenges, I rather believe 'tis an Amour; And that Letter as you call it a _Billet Deux_, which is to Conduct him to the place appointed; and in some Sence you may take that for a Challenge.

_Mr. Ven._ And she the Civil Embassadress to usher him in.

_Spr._ Yes, yes, but see the Bride and Bridegroom, with the rest of the good Company.

_Enter Justice_ Merry-man, Bonvile, Arabella, _Mrs._ Venter _and others, as Guests Invited to the Wedding._

_Mer._ Son _Bonvile_, what call ye the Gentleman we met at the Garden Door?

_Bon._ _Friendly_ Sir, a most approv'd and worthy Gentleman, and one of my chiefest Guests.

_Mer._ Ay, ay, it may be so: But yet me thought he seemed somewhat displeased, tho Son, Hah, What think you?

_Bon._ No sure Sir, he cannot be Angry, when his Friend's so happy.

_Mer._ I can't tell Boy, but I believe there's something more than ordinary in the matter. Why should he leave the Company else? And Mrs. _Clara_ I miss her too. Why Gentlemen, why do you suffer this?

_Ara._ Unknown to any Sir, she withdrew soon as we rise from Table.

_Mer._ Sick of the Maid perhaps; because she sees you Mrs. Bride her Quondam Play fellow Married before her; Heh Gentlemen, heh!

_Mr. Ven._ 'Troth like enough Brother _Merry-man_.

_Mer._ Go, go, find her out for shame Gentlemen; and do not stand idle thus, Od's bobs, when I was a Young fellow and invited to a Wedding, I used to frisk and Jump, and so bestir my self, that I made all the _Green-sickness_ Girles in the Room blush like Rubies. Ah, hah! I was a brisk Fellow in those Days, I'faith, and used to Cut Capers a Yard high: Nor am I yet so Old, but I can take a round or two still--Come, come Gentlemen, lets in again and firk it away, shall we not?

_Spr._ With all my Heart Mr. Justice.

_Mer._ Why that's well said Mr. _Spruce_, Ods bobs it was, and I thank you heartily.

_Spr._ Come Madam, you must along with us, without you all's nothing.

_Arab._ I'll wait on you Gentlemen; if you will give me leave Sir. [_To_ Bonvile.

_Bon._ Oh my best Joy! This Day you may Command.

_Mer._ That's right, that's right I'faith Gentlemen! This Day she Commands, and he for ever after. Ods bobs I have done so my self, and hope I shall do so still. Sister _Venter_, May I presume to ask if my Brother can say as much?

[_Exit_ Bonvile, Arab. Spruce, _and the rest of the Guests._]

_Mrs. Vent._ Yes Brother, I think he may, I freely Give him leave.

_Mer._ Observe that Brother, she freely gives you leave: But who Gives leave the Master or the Servant?

_Mr. Ven._ You are Merry Brother, and truly you have reason, having but one Daughter and see her Married as you would have her.

_Mer._ Yes, I have one thank Heaven! You wou'd be glad Sister you cou'd say so, but your Barrenness does give your Husband leave (if he please) to look for Game elsewhere.

_Mrs. Ven._ Well, well Sir, tho you jeer me, and make a scorn of my Sterility--

_Mer._ No, no, not I Sister, I scorn not your Sterility, nor your Husbands Virility neither.

_Mrs. Ven._ My Husband's Virility! Pray spare my Husband; for he has not been so idle as you imagin; He may have an--Offspring abroad for ought you know, that you never heard of.

_Mr. Ven._ Oh fye Wife, You will not make it publick will you?

_Mrs. Ven._ And yet he keeps himself within compass for all that.

_Mr. Ven._ If you love me _Winny_--

_Mrs. Ven._ Na, I say no more, but thereby hangs a Tale.

_Mer._ Say'st thou so old Girle? What and has he been stragling then? Nay; nay I know he is a Ventersome Man; And a--Merchant of small Wares sometimes, especially when he can get a good Commodity: I love him the better for't I'faith, Ods bobs I do--A notable spark with a Young Wench in a corner, Is he not? A true Chip of the old block, his Father I warrant him--But Sister, I have something to say to you in private, concerning my Daughter.

_Enter Nurse._

_Nurse._ By your leave Good Folks, Is Master _Venter_ the Merchant here I pray?

_Mr. Ven._ Oh Nurse! I am glad to see thee, How does my Boy?

_Nurse._ Very well, I thank Heaven Sir! He grows bravely I assure you. 'Tis a Chopping lad I promise you, and as like your good Worship; As if he had been spit out of your Mouth.

_Mr. Ven._ Softly, Nurse softly.

_Nurse._ I protest 'tis one of the forward'st Infants in the Universe; Lord! how it will Crow, and Chirup like a Sparrow! I am afraid Sir he is about Teeth, for he Dribbles extreamly, if so, Your Worship must provide him a Silver Corral with a Whistle and Chain.

_Mr. Ven._ Well, well, he shall have everything Nurse, my Wife shall send them to ye; in the mean time, there, there's a Piece, to buy thee a Pair of Gloves, and so leave us, for I am busie at present, therefore steal away behind me, and slip out at the back Door.

_Nurse._ Yes Sir, I am gone, Heavens bless your Worship, a Piece! Marry! and that's a sufficient Charm to lye up any Nurses Tongue in _Christendom_.

[_Ex. Nurse_

_Just. Mer._ Well well, it shall be done: Come Brother we are mist I warrant you amongst the Young Fry, let's to 'um and, Dance till our Legs ake again, come I'll lead the way.

_Mr. Ven._ We follow you.

[_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Friendly _Reading the Letter._

_Fr._ Heaven in its excess of Goodness, bestow'd no greater Blessing on Mankind than that of Friendship--To Murder any one is a Crime unpardonable! _But a Friend!--And of all Friends the nearest to my Heart_,--'Tis such an Imposition that Hell it self 'till now cou'd never parallel; And yet this Devil of a Woman has power over me beyond all Virtue. I am distracted in my Thoughts, and know not what to do; yet something must be done without delay, or else I lose her quite: And yet I fear 'tis most Impossible, for Friendship left the World, when Justice fled, and all who now do wear that Name are the worst of Hypocrites,

_Like Counterfeited Coin on which is seen,
The formal Stamp; but sordid Dross within._

_Enter_ Bonivile.

_Bon._ My Friend alone and Thoughtful? say for what?
That you alone appear with Discontent,
When all my Friends Congratulate my Bliss?
Is it because (which I durst ne're suspect)
Your Love to me was not intirely true?
Or else perhaps, this Crown of Happiness
You think Misplac'd, and Envy it not yours.

_Fri._ Forbear such cruel Words--
How can you entertain a Thought so Vile
Of him whom so long you have call'd your Friend?
May all the Blesings Heaven can bestow
On us poor Mortals in this World below,
Crown all your Days, and may you nothing see
But flowing Tides of sweet Felicity;
But I, alas!--

_Bon._ Alas! What means my _Friendly_?
Much hidden Grief that wretched Word portends,
Which thus disturbs the Quiet of my Friend?
But come disclose it to me,
And since the Burthen is too much for one,
I'll bear a part to ease thy troubled Breast.

_Fri._ Oh _Bonvile_!
Seek not to force this Fatal secret from me--

_Bon._ I must know it, by my best hopes I must.

_Fri._ Oh no! I cannot, Nay I dare not--

_Bon._ How dare not trust a secret to a Friend?

_Fri._ Oh _Bonville_, _Bonville_! Call me not your Friend,
That Name strikes horrour to my very Soul.

_Bon._ Ha! Art thou then a Stranger to that Name?

_Fri._ Indeed I am, and must be so for ever now.

_Bon._ Yet hear me _Friendly_; Deny me if thou can'st,
Fixt as a Rock, I vow I'll here remain,
Until I have forc'd this Dire secret from thee.

_Fri._ Pardon me Sir, I hope you soon will hear it,
But I----

[_Offers to go._]

_Bon._ Yet stay, and since intreaty can't prevail,
By all the Friendship which you once profess'd,
By all that's Holy, both in Heaven and Earth,
I now Conjure thee to impart it to me,
Or by this Life----

_Fri._ Hold, hold, and since I can no longer hide it
Know 'tis my Honour then which lyes at Stake.

_Bon._ Thy Honour! How? Proceed.

_Fri._ By chance a Quarrel happen'd to arise
Betwixt another and my self, The Field,
Time, Place, and all appointed,
Nay Seconds must assist us in the Deed:
I have relied on many seeming Friends,
(Such as profess the bare and empty Name)
And all refuse to venture in my Cause.

_Bon._ Is this all?

_Fri_ All, Is it not enough? To see my Reputation,
(the Lifes Blood of my Soul)
Nay all that's Dear, in Danger to be lost.

_Bon._ Not while thy _Bonvile_ lives and wears a Sword:
May all things frown that I wou'd have to smile,
May I live Poor, and Dye despised by all,
If I out live the ruine of thy Honour!
Tell me the time my Friend?

_Fri._ Oh, spare me that, for, if once known the time,
You'l Cancel this your promise, and recall
Your Friendly proffer.

_Bon._ Away with these Excuses, come the time.

_Fri._ At Seven this Evening.

_Bon._ The place?

_Fri._ _Barn-Elms_:
Oh the fatal place! Where I too well foresee,
The certain fall and Ruine of my Honour!

_Bon._ No, Thou shalt not stay to forfeit thy lov'd Honour,
Come I'm ready to assist my Friend; and will along with you.

_Fri._ Alas. What mean you?
Of all my Friends on you I ne're Relied;
But sure I Dream, I Rave, by Heav'ns I'm Mad!
My _Bonvile_ leave his Wife? And on his Wedding Day?
His Bride whom he perhaps may ne're Enjoy?
And all for me? O most unhappy Man!

_Bon._ Pleasure before my Friend I'll ne're prefer,
Nor is it lost, tho for a while, delay'd.

_Fri._ Are you then resolv'd to go?

_Bon._ I am as fixt in my Resolve as is the _Libertin_ in vice,
Which Death alone can part.

_Fri._ Yet stay, and think what it is you undertake,
Recall this Rash and suddain Resolution,
Least you repent, alas when it is too late.

_Bon._ This were enough to shake a weaker Soul,
But mine it moves not; like to a Mighty Oake,
I'm plac'd above the Storms of Fear or Doubt.

_Enter_ Arabella.

_Fri._ Sir, no more, the Bride,

_Ara._ Oh, Heavens defend me!

_Bon._ What ailes my Dearest Life?

_Ara._ I've lost the Key of this Chain I wear about my Neck
And of these Bracelets, Oh! Unhappy Omen!

_Bon._ No, no, my Love; I found it as it lay at Random in your Chamber, and fearing it might be forgot, or lost, have laid it by; 'Tis safe my Love.

_Ara._ Indeed I'me very glad you've found it, but yet----

[sighs.

_Bon._ Yet, What my Dear? from whence proceeds that sigh?

_Ara._ Alas, I know not!
Some busie Genius Whispers to my Soul,
The loss of this upon my Wedding Day
Portend's a greater e're the Day be past.

_Bon._ Banish such Fears, let's in and see our Friends.

_Ara._ Indeed they all expect you; come I'll lead the way.

_Bon._ I'll go with you. _Barn-Elms_ you say?

[_Aside to_ Friendly.

_Fri._ Yes that's the place, at Seven precisely;

_Bon._ I'll meet you on the _Exchange_, and go together;
If you are there before me, Take a turn or two.

[_Exit_ Bonvile, _and_ Arabella.

_Fri._ Oh my Dear _Bonvile_! Art thou then the Man?
The only, only Man that I can call Friend,
And only Friend that I am bound to Kill?
A Friend, that for my sake wou'd stake his Life,
Leave a Chast Bride and untouch'd Nuptial Bed
For me base Man, nay worse than Savage Beast:
The generous Lyon, never kills his kind
They say, altho provoked to utmost rage;
Yet I vile Monster, more ungrateful Man,
Thus unprovoked, must kill my Brother Creature,
And which is worse, my Dear and only Friend!
All for the pleasure of a Foolish Woman.

_O cruel Woman thus to Command
A Task so hard, Yet what I can't withstand!
Oh! thou rare Copy of the Original,
By which free Man at first received his fall;
For she not only wou'd her self undo,
And all her Sex, but Damn all Mankind too._

[_Exit._

_The End of the First Act._

ACT the Second.

SCENE the First.

_The Fields._

_Enter_ Summerfield _solus._

_Sum._ A Younger Brother! 'Tis a poor Title, and very hard to bear with: The Elder Fool inherits all the Land, whilst we are forc'd to follow _Legacies of Wit, and get 'um when we can_. Why shou'd the Law, by which we are deprived of equal Portion with the First-begotten, not bind our Fathers to cease from Procreation, and so as well deprive us of a wretched Being, as of the Thing we cannot be without: No, no, our Mothers ne're will consent to that, they love to groan and squall, tho at the same time the Gallows eccho's to their Groans, and both together labour for us. From the first we travel forth--to'thers our Journey's End. _All this I know, yet I must forward_: To beg, my Birth will ne're consent to; and _borrowing is quite out of date_--Yet starve I cannot, _nor murder I wou'd not_: It must be the Highway then, the old Trade we poor honest Rogues are forc'd too--This Place will serve for a Beginner well enough--A Beginner did I say? Yes; for this is the very first day I open Shop--Fortune, they say, uses to help the Bold, I hope she will be kind to me. Ha! who have we here? A Gentlewoman well rigg'd, and only a Servant with her, She may be a Prize worth the boarding, and faith I'll venture hard but I'll carry her.

[_He retires to a corner of the Stage._

_Enter_ Arabella _in great disorder, looking about her, with_ Symon _her Servant._

_Arab._ This way, say'st thou _Symon_, with _Friendly_?

_Sym._ Yes forsooth Mistress, with Mr. _Friendly_.

_Arab._ Alas! I'm tired and cannot travel further; my Heart is full of Fear, and yet I know not why, nor can I tell why he should use me thus,--It is not common sure for Men to leave their Brides upon the Wedding-day: And yet I cannot tell but it may be so! O wretched State of Marriage, and of Love, if this be Love! Here will I lie me down, and rest a while [_Lies down._] my wearied Limbs, unused to these sad Frights and Fears--But prethee do thou run after him, and if it be possible o'retake him too: Tell him the strange Disorder thou dost leave me in; and let him know my Father's Anger, his Friends Concern, and what is more, his _Arabella_'s sad Complaint; tell him, I grieve, I faint, I die; tell him any thing that may stay him.

_Sym._ Yes Forsooth.

_Arab._ Intreat him to return; nay, urge him all thou canst to make him come again: Nay haste, good _Symon_, fly if thou canst, for I can stir no further.

_Sym._ Well, well, Forsooth, I am gone.

[_Exit_ Symon.

_Arab._ Alas, how wretched and forlorn am I!

_I she whom once so many did admire,
Whose Wit and Charms the coldest Hearts cou'd fire!
Now wretched Maid, and most unhappy Wife,
In Sighs and in Complaints must end my Life.
Abandoned by my Husband, e're enjoyed,
With thoughts of Pleasure, yet untasted, cloy'd.
He leaves me now to my sad Frights a Prey;
O, my dear_ Bonvile! _whither dost thou stray?
Unheard, alas! I make my amarous Moans;
The Winds and Waves refuse to bear my Groans:
Eccho her self can't suffer my Complaint,
But with repeated Sighs grows tir'd and faint.
Where to find him, good Heaven direct me!
For losing him, I more than lose my self._

[_Rises, and_ Exit.

_Sum._ I must after her, she's worth my Acquaintance, and has good Moveables about her I perceive, what e're the Ready is. The next Turning has a most convenient Hollow for the Purpose, and there I'll make her sure. Now Luck, or never.

[_Exit after_ Arabella.

_Reenter_ Arabella, _and_ Summerfield _after her._

_Ara._ I'm at a stand already, and know not where I am.

_Sum._ I'll direct you, Madam; Well overtaken.

_Ara._ Bless me, Sir; What are you?

_Sum._ A Man.

_Ara._ An honest Man, I hope?

_Sum._ Yes faith in some Respects, I'm very honest, but not altogether so; I were not fit to live in the World if I were too honest, Child.

_Ara._ Alas! then I begin to fear: Pray tell me what you are?

_Sum._ Why, faith, an honest Thief.

_Ara._ How, honest, and yet a Thief? I never heard they were of Kin before; Pray, Heaven, I find it now.

_Sum._ Indeed! a very honest Thief.

_Ara._ Well, Sir, since that's your Title, pray use me kindly: Nay, I'm sure you will, there's something in your Looks which speaks you mild and noble.

_Sum._ Yes, I am a Gentleman, and you shall find me so; for I'll not offer you the least shew of Violence, or offer to corrupt your Chastity; tho indeed you are tempting Fair, and might inflame a colder Heart than mine: Yet Ravishing's no part of my Profession as yet; or if it were, you look so charming Innocent, you wou'd disarm my wildest Thoughts.

_Ara._ Blessings on your Goodness!

_Sum._ Are you a Maid, or Wife?

_Ara._ I am both, Sir.

_Sum._ Then this it seems is your Wedding-day, and these the Hours of Interim that keep you in that double State?

_Ara._ Indeed you are in the right.

_Sum._ Come then, I'll be brief, and hinder not your desired _Hymen_. You have some superfluous Toys I see about you, which you must deliver; I mean, that Chain of Gold and Pearl about your Neck, and those pretty Bracelets about your Arms, (pray, Heaven, they prove not Emblems of the combined Hemp which is to halter mine); come, Madam, pray deliver 'em.

_Ara._ Nay, I intreat you, Sir, to take 'em, for I cannot give 'em, they are lock'd you see, and truly I have not the Key about me; it may be you are furnish'd with Instruments that may unloose 'em, I pray do.

_Sum._ No faith, Madam, I'm but a Beginner in this same Business, and am wholly unprovided of any Pick-lock Tools besides this Sword.

[_Draws his Sword._

_Ara._ O, good Sir, do not shew me that, 'tis too frightful; pray hurt me not, for I do yield them freely: Use your Hands, perhaps their strength will serve to tear 'em from me without more ado. Some Pain I'll quietly endure, provide you do not hurt me much.

_Sum._ Alas, dear Lady, I'll use you as gently as I can upon my Word; but 'tis devilish strong.--If I hurt you, pray speak.

[_He endeavours to break the Chain about her Neck._]

_Ara._ Not much, Sir.

_Sum._ I am glad on't,--S'death, I can't do it.

[_She draws his Sword, and stands upon her Guard._

_Ara._ No Sir, nor shall not now: You a Highway-man and guard your self no better: Come, Sir, what Money have you? Deliver quickly.

_Sum._ Not a Cross by this foolish Hand of mine!

_Ara._ How, no Money, 'twere pity then to take this from thee; Here, take it again, I know you'l use me ne're the worse for what I have done.

[_Gives him his Sword again._]

_Sum._ No, by my Life!

_Ara._ I do believe you; and now pray hear me--Here on my Knees, in sight of Heaven, I make this solemn Protestation, That if you'l but forbear the Rifling of this Chain and Bracelets, and go but with me Home, by all the Vows which I this Day have plighted to my dearest Husband, I will deliver you in Money the full Value of these I wear, and cannot for my Life get off.

_Sum._ Ha! Ready-money is the Prize I look for; it passes without suspicion every where, when Chains and Jewels are often stop'd and call'd for before the Magistrate: But----

_Ara._ Nay never doubt! You saw I gave you my Advantage up, and questioned not my safety at your hands, pray fear not yours in mine.

_Sum._ I know not what to do.

_Ara._ Pray tell me, Sir, did you ever think a Woman true?

_Sum._ I have heard of some, but very few.

_Ara._ Will you add one more to your belief?

_Sum._ I think I may, for they were fewer than the Articles of my Faith, therefore I have room for you, and will believe you--Yet stay, you say you'l ransom your jewels with Ready-money when you come Home; so you may, and then discover me.

_Ara._ Shall I repeat the Vows I made?

_Sum._ No, for I'll trust you; and if you do betray me, then Mercy upon me, and Farewel. I knew a Gentleman that had been a Courtier at _Whitehall_ fifteen Years, and he was buried e're he took a Bride: 'Tis very strange you'l say; and may be my Case in another way.

_Ara._ Come, Sir, never fear: A Man and afraid; Fie, fie!

_Sum._ Give me your Hand, I'll wait on you; and if you are (as I believe you) True and Just, you are the World's Wonder! Come, Madam.

[_Exeunt._

SCENE II.

_Enter two Boys, one with a Child in his Arms._ Compass _on the other side._

_1 Boy._ _Jack_, Who's this?

_2 Boy._ O _Jeminy_! I'll be hang'd if it ben't Goodman _Compass_, that they said was dead three Years ago.

_1 Boy._ Od's Life, and so it is!

_Comp._ O _London_! sweet _London_! Do I live to see thee once again? My Eyes are full of Brine for Joy. And if my dear _Peggy_ be but living still, I shall cry 'em out.

_1 Boy._ Goodman _Compass_, I am glad to see you; You are welcome home.

_Comp._ Thank you, good Lad: Honest _Jack_ here too? Why, thou art grown a little Man since I saw thee last: What, is that thy own, heh?

_2 Boy._ I am fain to keep it, you see, whoever got it; it may be other Mens Cases as well as mine.

_Comp._ Thou say'st true _Jack_: But whose pretty Knave is it?

_2 Boy._ My Dame's where I live.

_Comp._ And not thy Master's?

_2 Boy._ Nay, nay, I can't tell that neither: My Master loves it as well as if it were his own, and for ought I see better than my Dame.

_Comp._ A very good Lad by my Troth!

_2 Boy._ But, Goodman _Compass_, I can tell you News, Your Wife has a brave Boy too of her own, not above a Quarter old, as big as two of this.

_Comp._ Ha! say'st thou so, _Jack_? Ha, ha, ha, by my Troth I am heartily glad to hear it: I'll give thee a dozen of Ale, and thy News be true, Boy.

_1 Boy._ I assure you 'tis very true: All your Neighbours can tell you the same.

_Comp._ Ha, ha, ha! But a Quarter old, and so lusty, say you? What plaguy thundering Boys are got now-a-days: I Gad, I shall split my Sides with Laughing; Ha, ha, ha.--But _Jack_, I have been loth to ask thee all this while, for fear of ill News, how does my Wife?

_2 Boy._ O never better, nor ever so lusty and handsome--And truly she wears better Clothes than she was wont, especially on Holy-days: she has Silk-Gowns, and Lac'd-Petticoats, and fine _Holland_-Smocks too, they say, that have seen 'em: And some of our Neighbours say, they were taken up in _Cheap_.

_Comp._ Like enough, _Jack_; and there they must be paid for--Well, good Lads, go and tell my Wife the joyful Tidings of my Return.

_2 Boy._ That I will with all my Heart, for she heard you were dead long ago.

_1 Boy._ Nay, I'll go along with you _Jack_.

_2 Boy._ Come then.

[_Exeunt 2 Boys._

_Comp._ Well, _Peggy_, if I am one of the Livery, I thank thee for it: The Cuckolds are the greatest Company in all the City: And we have more Aldermen among us, than all the other put them together.

_Enter_ Peg, Compass_'s Wife._

_Peg._ O my dear sweet Honey-suckle! Art thou alive? I am glad to see thee with all my Heart and Soul, so I am.

[_Runs and kisses him._]

_Comp._ O, ho! good Spouse, give me leave to shed a few pearly Tears; the Fountain of Love will have its Course: And tho I cannot Sing at first sight, yet I can Cry you see. I am as it were new come into the World; and Children Cry before they Laugh, a long time you know.

_Peg._ Yes; and so thou art new born indeed to me, my _Numpy_; for I was told you were dead long since, and never thought to see this dear sweet Face of thine again: I heard thou wert div'd to the bottom of the Sea, and that you never did intend to see poor _Peggy_ more.

_Comp._ He, he, he, I was going down, as you say _Peg_, but I thought better on't, and turn'd back: I heard an ill Report of my Neighbours there; the devouring Sharks, and other Sea-Monsters, whose Company, to tell you the Truth, I did not like; and therefore resolv'd to come home and bide with thee my Girl--Come kiss thy poor Hubby, kiss me I say, for Sorrow begins to ebb apace.

_Peg._ A thousand, thousand Welcomes home dear _Numpy_!

_Comp._ An Ocean of Thanks, kind _Peggy_: Well, and how goes all at Home? What Lank still, poor _Peg_? Wil't ne're be full Sea at our Wharf?

_Peg._ Alas, Husband, what do you mean?

_Comp._ A Lass, is it, or a Lad, Wench? I shou'd be glad of both; I look'd for a pair of Compasses long afore now.

_Peg._ What, and you from home, Love?

_Comp._ I from home? Why tho I was from home, and other of our Neighbours from home, does that follow that every body else is from home?

_Peg._ I am pleased you are so merry, Husband.

_Comp._ Merry, nay I'll be merrier yet; why shou'd I be sorry? I hope my Boy's well, is he not? Od's fish, I look for another by this Time.

_Peg._ Boy, what Boy, Deary?

_Comp._ What Boy! why the Boy I got when I came home in the Cock-boat one Night, about a Year ago; You have not forgotten it, I hope, I think I left behind me for a Boy, and a Boy I look for.

_Peg._ I find he knows all--What shall I do? [_Aside._]
O dear Husband, pray pardon me. [_Kneels._]

_Comp._ Pardon thee; why I hope thou hast not made away with my Boy, hast thou? Od's death I'll hang thee, if there were never a Whore more in _London_, if thou hast.

_Peg._ O no; but your long Absence, and the Rumour of your Death, [_Cries._] made me think I might venture.

_Comp._ Venture, quoth a, I can't blame thee, _Peg_; for _Wapping_, if it were twice _Wapping_, can't hold out always, no more than _Redriff_, _Limehouse_ or _Shadwel_, nay or the strongest Suburbs about _London_; and when it comes to that, wo be to the City too, Girl.

_Peg._ Consider, Husband, I'm but a Woman, neither the first or last that have done the same, and truly I won't deny but I have a Child.

_Comp._ Have you so? And what by Consequence must I have then, I pray?

_Peg._ If you'l forgive me this Time, it shall be so no more, indeed and indeed, now.

_Comp._ Well, well. I will forgive thee, _Peg_, upon this Condition, that you tell me who it was that fell foul aboard thee, and sprung this Leak in thee.

_Peg._ O dear Husband!

_Comp._ Nay, no Excuses, for I must know.

_Peg._ Why then truly it was Mr. _Venter_ the Merchant.

_Comp._ I am beholding to him, and wou'd requite his Civility, if his Wife were but as willing, tho he be one of our Merchants at Sea, he shall give me leave to be Owner at home; and where is my Boy? what, shan't I see him?

_Peg._ Yes if you please, good Husband: He's nurs'd at _Bednal green_; 'tis now too late, to Morrow will be better.

_Comp._ Come then we'l home and to bed.

_Let other Fools repine at Scoffs and Scorns,
I'll teach the Cuckold how to hide his Horns._

[Exeunt.

_Enter Justice_ Merryman, _Mr._ Venter, Spruce, _Mrs._ Venter _and_ Clara.

_Mer._ Was the like ever known, that a Bridegroom shou'd absent himself on his Wedding-Day?

Mr. _Ven._ 'Tis somewhat strange indeed.

_Mer._ And the Bride too my Daughter, she's out of the way: Why what shou'd be the meaning of all this, Od's bobs I can't tell?

Mrs. _Ven._ Perhaps they'r busy Brother, privately conferring Notes together: You can't tell but that the young Man may have a stomach to his Supper, and fall too unawares, and we ne're the wiser.

_Spr._ Od's nigs, very true; what wou'd you say then Sir, if they shou'd be stol'n away, and a-bed together seriously?

_Mer._ What wou'd I say? marry I wou'd say, Speed 'em well: And if no worse News ever comes to me, I'll be hang'd if e're I cry'd for't.

_Enter Nurse._

How now, what's the Business with you?

_Nurse._ Business enough, Forsooth; for I have the strangest Tydings!

_Mer._ Of any One that's lost, Woman?

_Nurse._ No forsooth, of One that's found again, an't please you.

_Mer._ O, he was lost then it seems.

Mr. _Ven._ Her Business is with me, I believe Brother; is it not, Woman?

_Nurse._ Yes, Sir.

Mr. _Ven._ Come hither then, [_Nurse whispers Mr._ Venter.] How, return'd?

_Nurse._ Yes indeed, Sir, and all discovered.

Mr. _Ven._ Ah Curse on the Wind that blew him ashore.

_Nurse._ Aye, so say I Sir, and did not sink him when he was going.

Mr. _Ven._ Well, well, be sure you do not let him come near the Child.

_Nurse._ I warrant you, Sir, if you charge me to the contrary.

Mr. _Ven._ Yes, I do strictly charge you as you tender my Displeasure.

_Nurse._ Well then let me alone--Besides, Sir, he intends to come to morrow morning with his Wife and see him.

Mr. _Ven._ I'll meet him there; and if he chance to be there before me, be sure to keep the Child safe, and not let him touch it.

_Nurse._ I warrant you, let me alone.

[_Exit Nurse._

_Enter_ Summerfield _and_ Arabella.

_Mer._ So, so, Heaven be praised, they are not both lost I see, here's the Bride, my Daughter, come again.

_Ara._ Father, and Gentlemen, I desire ye to treat this Stranger here with all Respect and Generosity; He's a loving Kinsman of my _Bonvile_'s who kindly came to congratulate our Wedding.

_Mer._ Sir, you are heartily welcome. Od's bobs you are.

Mr. _Ven._ Welcome to all of us.

_Spruce._ Seriously, Sir, and so you are.

_Mer._ But where's the Bridegroom, Girl? Od's bobs we're all at a Nonplus here, at a stand, quite out; the Musicks ceas'd, and we all look as tho there were neither a light Heart or Heel among us; nay, my Cousin _Clara_ too as cloudy as on a washing Day.

_Clara._ 'Tis then because you will not dance with me, Sir.

_Ara._ 'Tis I alone have cause to be sad, if this Day's Happiness cou'd admit of any; But I've long reason'd with my pressing Thoughts, and from them drawn some Symptoms of Relief. Suppose this Day hath long since appointed by my dear _Bonvile_, to meet some Foe, and right his injur'd Reputation: Nay, say he fights, alas! Why shou'd I fear, when all the Powers above, that guard true Love and Innocence, will never see him fall.

_Mer._ Prethee peace, good Girl hold thy tongue; Od's bobs thou'lt make us all Cowards, to hear a Woman preach up Valour thus.

_Ara._ Well, Sir, I have done: But pray entertain this Gentleman kindly for my sake. Indeed I was afraid when I saw him first.

_Sum._ Ha! what does she say? Od's Death she'l tell!

_Ara._ Being in search of my dear _Bonvile_, I had quite lost my Way when he most opportunely came unto my Aid, and gave me many marks of his Esteem in my distress of Fears; nay more than this, which I'll declare at large.

_Sum._ Death and Hell, she'l betray me.

_Ara._ Well, Gentlemen, since the Bridegroom's absent, I must supply his Place: Come, when I have waited on you to your Pleasure, I will return [_To_ Summerfield.] to you, Sir, we must discourse more of my _Bonvile_ yet.

[_Exeunt all but_ Summerfield.]

_Manet_ Summerfield _solus._

_Sum._ What a trembling Trade's this, when Conscience, that shou'd be our only Guide, flies and leaves us to our accusing Guilt. A Thief! the very Name and Thought chills my Blood, and makes me tremble like an Ague-fit. A Dog, nay every Bough that moves, puts us in fear of present Apprehension. Sure I shall never thrive on this Trade: Perhaps I need take no further Care, I may be now near to my Journey's End, or at least in a fair way to _Newgate_, and from thence to _Tyburn_, the only Place that we poor Rogues can claim for an Inheritance. Trust a Woman, and with a Matter of such Importance, what a simple Dog am I? I cou'd find in my Heart to run away: And that were base to run from a woman; I can lay claim to nothing but her Vows, and those the Women seldom or never mind.

_Enter_ Arabella.

_Ara._ So, Sir, now you shall find a Woman as good as her Promise; Here are 20 Pieces, the full Value, on my Life, of what they cost.

_Sum._ Pray, Madam, do not thus suspend my doubtful Soul; but if you do design to insnare my Life, speak, speak freely: Or if the Constable be at the Door, let him shew his Staff of Authority, perhaps I may corrupt him with a Bribe.

_Ara._ How! base ungrateful Man, do you suspect my Faith? Nay then, Father, Uncle, and Gentlemen, where are you?

_Enter all as before._

_Mer._ How now, how now! What's the matter, Girl?

_Ara._ For shame, will you not entertain your Kinsman here a little better: you leave him here alone, as tho you despised his Company.

_Mer._ Is that all? I thought the Bridegroom had been return'd: Sir, pray pardon this Rudeness; But indeed I had quite forgot you, quite forgot you, as I hope to be sav'd: But what makes you tremble, Sir, are you ill dispos'd.

_Ara._ Think you he hath not reason to be ill-disposed at this cold [_Aside to Justice_ Merryman.] Entertainment? for my part I blush for shame.

_Spr._ Come pray, Sir, shake off this Dulness, and participate of our Mirth, Od's nigs do.

_Sum._ I am very well, Sir, I thank you, only the Gentleman is a little under a Mistake.

_Mer._ It may be so, Ay, ay, it may be so; I vow I thought you had trembled, but I believe it might be my own Hand; you must pardon me, I was stiffer once.

_Sum._ Sir, your humble Servant.

_Mer._ But, Gentlemen, what think you of an Adventure?

_Spr._ Adventure whither?