Chapter XXI: Act V: SCENE I. Sir Timothy’s House

_Enter_ Dresswell, Foppington, Laboir, _and five or six more
disguised with Wizards and dark Lanthorns_.

_Fop_. Not yet! a plague of this damn’d Widow: The Devil ow’d him an unlucky Cast, and has thrown it him to night.

_Enter_ Wild, _in Rapture and Joy_.

--Hah, dear _Tom_, art thou come?

_Wild_. I saw how at her length she lay! I saw her rising Bosom bare!

_Fop_. A Pox of her rising Bosom! My dear, let’s dress and about our Business.

_Wild_. Her loose thin Robes, through which appear A Shape design’d for Love and Play!

_Dres_. Sheart, Sir, is this a time for Rapture? ‘tis almost day.

_Wild_. Ah, _Frank_, such a dear Night!

_Dress_. A Pox of Nights, Sir, think of this and the Day to come: which I perceive you were too well employ’d to remember.

_Wild_. The Day to come! Death, who cou’d be so dull in such dear Joys, To think of Time to come, or ought beyond ‘em! And had I not been interrupted by _Charles Meriwill_, who, getting drunk, had Courage enough to venture on an untimely Visit, I’d had no more power of returning, than committing Treason: But that conjugal Lover, who will needs be my Cuckold, made me then give him way, that he might give it me another time, and so unseen I got off. But come--my Disguise. [_Dresses_.

_Dres_. All’s still and hush, as if Nature meant to favour our Design.

_Wild_. ‘Tis well: and hark ye, my Friends, I’ll prescribe ye no Bounds, nor Moderation; for I have consider’d, if we modestly take nothing but the Writings,’.will be easy to suspect the Thief.

_Fop_. Right; and since ‘tis for the securing our Necks, ‘tis lawful Prize--Sirrah, leave the Portmantle here. [_Exeunt as into the House_.

_After a small time, Enter_ Jervice _undres’d, crying out,
pursued by some of the Thieves_.

_Jer_. Murder, Murder! Thieves, Murder!

_Enter_ Wilding _with his Sword drawn_.

_Wild_. A plague upon his Throat; set a Gag in’s Mouth and bind him, though he be my Uncle’s chief Pimp--so--

[_They bind and gag him_.
_Enter_ Dresswell, _and_ Laboir.

_Dres_. Well, we have bound all within hearing in their Beds, e’er they cou’d alarm their Fellows by crying out.

_Wild_. ‘Tis well; come, follow me, like a kind Midnight-Ghost, I will conduct ye to the rich buried Heaps--this Door leads to my Uncle’s Apartment; I know each secret Nook conscious of Treasure.

[_All go in, leaving_ Jervice _bound on the Stage_.

_Enter_ Sensure _running half undressed, as from Sir_ Timothy’s
_Chamber, with his Velvet-Coat on her Shoulders_.

_Sen_. Help, help! Murder! Murder!
[Dres. Lab. _and others pursue her_.

_Dres_. What have we here, a Female bolted from Mr. Alderman’s Bed?
[Holding a Lanthorn to his Face.

_Sen_. Ah, mercy, Sir, alas, I am a Virgin.

_Dres_. A Virgin! Gad and that may be, for any great Miracles the old Gentleman can do.

_Sen_. Do! alas, Sir, I am none of the Wicked.

_Dres_. That’s well--The sanctify’d Jilt professes Innocence, yet has the Badge of her Occupation about her Neck. [_Pulls off the Coat_.

_Sen_. Ah, Misfortune, I have mistook his Worship’s Coat for my Gown.
[_A little Book drops out of her Bosom_.

_Dres_. What have we here? A Sermon preacht by Richard Baxter, Divine. Gad a mercy, Sweetheart, thou art a hopeful Member of the true Protestant Cause.

_Sen_. Alack, how the Saints may be scandaliz’d! I went but to tuck his Worship up.

_Dres_. And comment upon the Text a little, which I suppose may be, increase and multiply--Here, gag, and bind her. [_Exit_ Dres.

_Sen_. Hold, hold, I am with Child!

_Lab_. Then you’ll go near to miscarry of a Babe of Grace.

_Enter_ Wild. Fop. _and others, leading in Sir_ Timothy _in
his Night-gown and Night-Gap_.

Sir _Tim_. Gentlemen, why, Gentlemen, I beseech you use a Conscience in what you do, and have a feeling in what you go about--Pity my Age.

_Wild_. Damn’d beggarly Conscience, and needless Pity--

Sir _Tim_. Oh, fearful--But, Gentlemen, what is’t you design? is it a general Massacre, pray? or am I the only Person aim’d at as a Sacrifice for the Nation? I know, and all the World knows, how many Plots have been laid against my self, both by Men, Women, and Children, the diabolical Emissaries of the Pope.

_Wild_. How, Sirrah! [_Fiercely, he starts_.

Sir _Tim_. Nay, Gentlemen, not but I love and honour his Holiness with all my Soul; and if his Grace did but know what I’ve done for him, d’ye see--

_Fop_. You done for the Pope, Sirrah! Why, what have you done for the Pope?

Sir _Tim_. Why, Sir, an’t like ye, I have done you very great Service, very great Service; for I have been, d’ye see, in a small Tryal I had, the cause and occasion of invalidating the Evidence to that degree, that I suppose no Jury in Christendom will ever have the Impudence to believe ’.m hereafter, shou’d they swear against his Holiness and all the Conclave of Cardinals.

_Wild_. And yet you plot on still, cabal, treat, and keep open Debauch, for all the Renegado-Tories and old Commonwealthsmen to carry on the good Cause.

Sir _Tim_. Alas, what signifies that! You know, Gentlemen, that I have such a strange and natural Agility in turning--I shall whip about yet, and leave ‘em all in the Lurch.

_Wild_. ‘Tis very likely; but at this time we shall not take your Word for that.

Sir _Tim_. Bloody-minded Men, are you resolv’d to assassinate me then?

_Wild_. You trifle, Sir, and know our Business better, than to think we come to take your Life, which wou’d not advantage a Dog, much less any Party or Person--Come, come, your Keys, your Keys.

_Fop_. Ay, ay, discover, discover your Money, Sir, your ready--

Sir _Tim_. Money, Sir, good lack, is that all? [_Smiling on ‘em_.] Why, what a Beast was I, not knowing of your coming, to put out all my Money last Week to Alderman Draw-tooth? Alack, alack, what shift shall I make now to accommodate you?--But if you please to come again to morrow--

_Fop_. A shamming Rogue; the right Sneer and Grin of a dissembling Whig. Come, come, deliver, Sir; we are for no Rhetorick but ready Money. [_Aloud and threatning_.

Sir _Tim_. Hold, I beseech you, Gentlemen, not so loud; for there is a Lord, a most considerable Person, and a Stranger, honours my House to night; I wou’d not for the world his Lordship shou’d be disturb’d.

_Wild_. Take no care for him, he’s fast bound and all his Retinue.

Sir _Tim_. How, bound! my Lord bound, and all his People! Undone, undone, disgrac’d! What will the Polanders say, that I shou’d expose their Embassador to this Disrespect and Affront?

_Wild_. Bind him, and take away his Keys.

[_They bind him hand and foot, and take his
Keys out of his Bosom. Ex. all_.

Sir _Tim_. Ay, ay, what you please, Gentlemen, since my Lord’s bound--Oh, what Recompence can I make for so unhospitable Usage? I am a most unfortunate Magistrate: hah, who’s there, _Jervice_? Alas, art thou here too? What, canst not speak? but ‘tis no matter and I were dumb too; for what Speech or Harangue will serve to beg my Pardon of my Lord?--And then my Heiress, _Jervice_, ay, my rich Heiress, why, she’ll be ravisht: Oh Heavens, ravisht! The young Rogues will have no Mercy, _Jervice_; nay, perhaps as thou say’st, they’ll carry her away.--Oh, that thought! Gad, I rather the City-Charter were lost. [_Enter some with Bags of Money_. --Why, Gentlemen, rob like Christians, Gentlemen.

_Fop_. What, do you mutter, Dog?

Sir _Tim_. Not in the least, Sir, not in the least; only a Conscience, Sir, in all things does well--Barbarous Rogues. [_They go out all again_.] Here’s your arbitrary Power, _Jervice_; here’s the Rule of the Sword now for you: These are your Tory Rogues, your tantivy Roysters; but we shall cry quits with you, Rascals, ere long; and if we do come to our old Trade of Plunder and Sequestration, we shall so handle ye--we’ll spare neither Prince, Peer, nor Prelate. Oh, I long to have a slice at your fat Church-men, your Crape-Gownorums.

_Enter_ Wild. Dresswell, Laboir, _and the rest, with more Bags_.

_Wild_. A Prize, a Prize, my Lads, in ready Guineas; Contribution, my beloved.

_Dres_. Nay, then ‘tis lawful Prize, in spite of Ignoramus and all his Tribe--What hast thou here? [_To_ Fop. _who enters with a Bag full of Papers_.

_Fop_. A whole Bag of Knavery, damn’d Sedition, Libels, Treason, Successions, Rights and Privileges, with a new-fashion’d Oath of Abjuration, call’d the Association.--Ah, Rogue, what will you say when these shall be made publick?

Sir _Tim_. Say, Sir? why, I’ll deny it, Sir; for what Jury will believe so wise a Magistrate as I cou’d communicate such Secrets to such as you? I’ll say you forg’d ‘em, and put ‘em in--or print every one of ‘em, and own ‘em, as long as they were writ and publisht in London, Sir. Come, come, the World is not so bad yet, but a Man may speak Treason within the Walls of London, thanks be to God, and honest conscientious Jury-Men. And as for the Money, Gentlemen, take notice you rob the Party.

_Wild_. Come, come, carry off the Booty, and prithee remove that Rubbish of the Nation out of the way--Your servant, Sir.--So, away with it to _Dresswell’s_ Lodgings, his Coach is at the Door ready to receive it.

[_They carry off Sir_ Timothy, _and others take up
the Bags, and go out with ‘em_.

_Dres_. Well, you are sure you have all you came for?

_Wild_. All’s safe, my Lads, the Writings all--

_Fop_. Come, let’s away then.

_Wild_. Away? what meanest thou? is there not a Lord to be found bound in his Bed, and all his People? Come, come, dispatch, and each Man bind his Fellow.

_Fop_. We had better follow the Baggage, Captain.

_Wild_. No, we have not done so ill, but we dare shew our Faces. Come, come, to binding.

_Fop_. And who shall bind the last Man?

_Wild_. Honest Laboir, d’ye hear, Sirrah? you get drunk and lay in your Clothes under the Hall-Table; d’ye hear me? Look to’t, ye Rascal, and carry things discreetly, or you’ll be hang’d, that’s certain. [_Ex_. Wild, _and_ Dres.

_Fop_. So, now will I i’th’ Morning to _Charlot_, and give her such a Character of her Love, as if she have Resentment, makes her mine. [_Exit_ Fop.

Sir _Tim_. [_calls within_.] Ho, Jenkins, Roger, Simon! Where are these Rogues? none left alive to come to my Assistance? So ho, ho, ho, ho! Rascals, Sluggards, Drones! so ho, ho, ho!

_Lab_. So, now’s my Cue--and stay, I am not yet sober.
[_Puts himself into a drunken Posture_.

Sir _Tim_. Dogs, Rogues, none hear me? Fire, fire, fire!

_Lab_. Water, water, I say; for I am damnable dry.

Sir _Tim_. Hah, who’s there?

_Lab_. What doleful Voice is that?

Sir _Tim_. What art thou, Friend or Foe? [_In a doleful Tone_.

_Lab_. Very direful--why, what the Devil art thou?

Sir _Tim_. If thou’rt a Friend, approach, approach the wretched.

_Lab_. Wretched! What art thou, Ghost, Hobgoblin, or walking Spirit?
[_Reeling in with a Lanthorn in’s Hand_.

Sir _Tim_. Oh, neither, neither, but mere Mortal, Sir _Timothy Treat-all_, robb’d and bound. [_Coming out led by_ Laboir.

_Lab_. How, our generous Host!

Sir _Tim_. How, one of my Lord’s Servants! Alas, alas, how cam’st thou to escape?

_Lab_. E’en by miracle, Sir; by being drunk, and falling asleep under the Hall-Table with your Worship’s Dog Tory, till just now a Dream of Small-beer wak’d me: and crawling from my Kennel to secure the black Jack, I stumbled upon this Lanthorn, which I took for one, till I found a Candle in’t, which helps me to serve your Worship. [_Goes to unbind his Hands_.

Sir _Tim_. Hold, hold, I say; for I scorn to be so uncivil to be unbound before his Lordship: therefore run, Friend, to his Honour’s Chamber, for he, alas, is confined too.

_Lab_. What, and leave his worthy Friend in distress? by no means, Sir.

Sir _Tim_. Well then, come, let’s to my Lord, whom if I be not asham’d to look in the Face, I am an errant Sarazen.

[_Exit Sir_ Tim. _and_ Lab.

SCENE II. _Changes to_ Wilding’s _Chamber_.

_He is discovered sitting in a Chair bound, his Valet
bound by him; to them Sir_ Timothy _and_ Laboir.

_Wild_. Peace, Sirrah, for sure I hear some coming--Villains, Rogues! I care not for my self, but for the good pious Alderman. [_Sir_ Tim. _as listening_.

Sir _Tim_. Wonderful Goodness, for me! Alas, my Lord, this sight will break my Heart. [_Weeps_.

_Wild_. Sir _Timothy_ safe! nay, then I do forgive ‘em.

Sir _Tim_. Alas, my Lord, I’ve heard of your rigid Fate.

_Wild_. It is my Custom, Sir, to pray an Hour or two in my Chamber, before I go to Bed; and having pray’d that drousy Slave asleep, the Thieves broke in upon us unawares, I having laid my Sword aside.

Sir _Tim_. Oh, Heavens, at his Prayers! damn’d Ruffians, and wou’d they not stay till you had said your Prayers?

_Wild_. By no Persuasion--Can you not guess who they shou’d be, Sir?

Sir _Tim_. Oh, some damn’d Tory-rory Rogues, you may be sure, to rob a Man at his Prayers! why, what will this World come to?

_Wild_. Let us not talk, Sir, but pursue ‘em.
[_Offering to go_.

Sir _Tim_. Pursue ‘em! alas, they’re past our reach by this time.

_Wild_. Oh, Sir, they are nearer than you imagine: some that know each Corner of your House, I’ll warrant.

Sir _Tim_. Think ye so, my Lord? ay, this comes of keeping open House; which makes so many shut up their Doors at Dinner-time.

_Enter_ Dresswell.

_Dres_. Good Morrow, Gentlemen! what, was the Devil broke loose to night?

Sir _Tim_. Only some of his Imps, Sir, saucy Varlets, insupportable Rascals--But well, my Lord, now I have seen your Lordship at liberty, I’ll leave you to your rest, and go see what Harm this night’s Work has done.

_Wild_. I have a little Business, Sir, and will take this time to dispatch it in; my Servants shall to Bed, though ‘tis already day--I’ll wait on you at Dinner.

Sir _Tim_. Your time; my House and all I have is yours; and so I take my Leave of your Lordship. [_Ex. Sir_ Tim.

_Wild_. Now for my angry Maid, the young _Charlot_; ’.will be a Task to soften her to Peace; She is all new and gay, young as the Morn, Blushing as tender Rose-Buds on their Stalks, Pregnant with Sweets, for the next Sun to ravish. --Come, thou shalt along with me, I’ll trust thy Friendship.

[_Exeunt_.

SCENE III. _Changes to_ Diana’s _Chamber_.

_She is discovered dressing, with_ Betty.

_Dia_. Methinks I’m up as early as if I had a mind to what I’m going to do, marry this rich old Coxcomb.

_Bet_. And you do well to lose no time.

_Dia_. Ah, Betty, and cou’d thy Prudence prefer an old Husband, because rich, before so young, so handsom, and so soft a Lover as _Wilding_?

_Bet_. I know not that, Madam; but I verily believe the way to keep your young Lover, is to marry this old one: for what Youth and Beauty cannot purchase, oney and Quality may.

_Dia_. Ay, but to be oblig’d to lie with such a Beast; ay, there’s the Devil, _Betty_. Ah, when I find the difference of their Embraces, The soft dear Arms of _Wilding_ round my Neck. From those cold feeble ones of this old Dotard; When I shall meet, instead of _Tom’s_ warm kisses, A hollow Pair of thin blue wither’d Lips, Trembling with Palsy, stinking with Disease, By Age and Nature barricado’d up With a kind Nose and Chin; What Fancy or what Thought can make my Hours supportable?

_Bet_. What? why six thousand Pounds a Year, Mistress. He’ll quickly die, and leave you rich, and then do what you please.

_Dia_. Die! no, he’s too temperate--Sure these Whigs, _Betty_, believe there’s no Heaven, they take such care to live so long in this World--No, he’ll out-live me. [_Sighs_.

_Bet_. In Grace a God he may be hang’d first, Mistress--Ha, one knocks, and I believe ‘tis he. [_She goes to open the Door_.

_Dia_. I cannot bring my Heart to like this Business; One sight of my dear _Tom_ wou’d turn the Scale.

_Bet_. Who’s there?

_Enter Sir_ Tim. _joyful_; Dian. _walks away_.

Sir _Tim_. ‘Tis I, impatient I, who with the Sun have welcom’d in the Day; This happy Day to be inroll’d In Rubrick Letters and in Gold. --Hum, I am profoundly eloquent this Morning. [_Aside_. --Fair Excellence, I approach-- [_Going toward her_.

_Dia_. Like Physick in a Morning next one’s Heart; [_Aside_. Which, though it be necessary, is most filthy loathsom. [_Going from him_.

Sir _Tim_. What, do you turn away, bright Sun of Beauty? --Hum, I’m much upon the Suns and Days this Morning.

_Dia_. It will not down.
[_Turning on him, looks on him, and turns away_.

Sir _Tim_. Alas, ye Gods, am I despis’d and scorn’d? Did I for this ponder upon the Question, Whether I should be King or Alderman? [_Heroickly_.

_Dia_. If I must marry him, give him Patience to endure the Cuckolding, good Heaven. [_Aside_.

Sir _Tim_. Heaven! did she name Heaven, Betty?

_Bet_. I think she did, Sir.

Sir _Tim_. I do not like that: What need has she to think of Heaven upon her Wedding-day?

_Dia_. Marriage is a sort of Hanging, Sir; and I was only making a short Prayer before Execution.

Sir _Tim_. Oh, is that all? Come, come, we’ll let that alone till we’re abed, that we have nothing else to do. [_Takes her Hand_.

_Dia_. Not much, I dare swear.

Sir _Tim_. And let us, Fair one, haste; the Parson stays; besides, that heap of Scandal may prevent us--I mean, my Nephew.

_Dia_. A Pox upon him now for naming _Wilding_.
[_Weeps_.

Sir _Tim_. How, weep at naming my ungracious Nephew? Nay, then I am provok’d--Look on this Head, this wise and Reverend Head; I’d have ye know, it has been taken measure on to fit it to a Crown, d’ye see.

_Dia_. A Halter rather. [_Aside_.

Sir _Tim_. Ay, and it fits it too: and am I slighted, I that shall receive Billet-Doux from Infanta’s? ‘tis most uncivil and impolitick.

_Dia_. I hope he’s mad, and then I reign alone. [_Aside_. Pardon me, Sir, that parting Tear I shed indeed at naming _Wilding_, Of whom my foolish Heart has now ta’en leave, And from this Moment is intirely yours.

[_Gives him her Hand, they go out followed by_ Betty.

SCENE IV. _Changes to a Street_.

_Enter_ Charlot, _led by_ Foppington, _follow’d by Mrs_. Clacket.

_Char_. Stay, my Heart misgives me, I shall be undone. --Ah, whither was I going? [_Pulls her Hand from_ Fop.

_Fop_. Do, stay till the News arrives that he is married to her that had his Company to night, my Lady _Galliard_.

_Char_. Oh! Take heed lest you sin doubly, Sir.

_Fop_. By Heaven, ‘tis true, he past the Night with her.

_Char_. All night! what cou’d they find to do?

Mrs. _Clack_. A very proper Question; I’ll warrant you they were not idle, Madam.

_Char_. Oh, no; they lookt and lov’d and vow’d and lov’d, and swore eternal Friendship--Haste, haste, and lead me to the Church, the Altar; I’ll put it past my Power to love him more.

_Fop_. Oh, how you charm me!
[_Takes her by the Hand_.

_Char_. Yet what art thou? a Stranger to my Heart. Wherefore, ah why, on what occasion shou’d I?

Mrs. _Clack_. Acquaintance, ‘tis enough, I know him, Madam, and I hope my Word will be taken for a greater matter in the City: In troth you’re beholden to the Gentleman for marrying you, your Reputation’s gone.

_Char_. How, am I not honest then?

Mrs. _Clack_. Marry, Heaven forbid! But who that knows you have been a single Hour in _Wilding’s_ Hands, wou’d not swear you have lost your Maidenhead? And back again I’m sure you dare not go unmarried; that wou’d be a fine History to be sung to your eternal Fame in a Ballad.

_Fop_. Right; and you see _Wilding_ has left you for the Widow, to whom perhaps you’ll shortly hear he’s married.

_Char_. Oh, you trifle, Sir; lead on.

[_They going out, meet Sir_ Anthony _with Musick: they return_.

Sir _Anth_. Come, come, Gentlemen, this is the House, and this the Window belonging to my Lady’s Bed-chamber: Come, come, let’s have some neat, soft, brisk, languishing, sprightly Air now.

_Fop_. Old Meriwill--how shall I pass by him!
[_Stand by_.

Sir _Anth_. So, here’s Company too; ‘tis very well--Not have the Boy? I’ll warrant this does the Business--Come, come, screw up your Chitterling. [_They play_. --Hold, hold a little--Good morrow, my Lady _Galliard_. --Give your Ladyship Joy.

_Char_. What do I hear, my Lady _Galliard_ joy’d?

_Fop_. How, married her already?

_Char_. Oh, yes, he has. Lovely and false, hast thou deceiv’d my Faith?

Mrs. _Clack_. Oh, Heavens, Mr. _Foppington_, she faints.--ah me!

[_They hold her, Musick plays.
Enter_ Wilding _and_ Dresswell, _disguis’d as before_.

_Wild_. Ah, Musick at _Galliard’s_ Door!

Sir _Anth_. Good morrow, Sir _Charles Meriwill_: give your Worship and your fair Lady Joy.

_Wild_. Hah, Meriwill married the Widow!

_Dres_. No matter; prithee advance, and mind thy own Affairs.

_Wild_. Advance, and not inquire the meaning on’t! Bid me not eat, when Appetite invites me; Not draw, when branded with the Name of Coward; Nor love, when Youth and Beauty meet my Eyes-- Hah!-- [_Sees Sir_ Charles _come into the Balcony undrest_.

Sir _Char_. Good morrow, Uncle. Gentlemen, I thank ye: Here, drink the King’s Health, with my Royal Master’s the Duke. [_Gives ‘em Money_.

_Fid_. Heaven bless your Honour, and your virtuous Bride.

_Fop. Wilding_! undone.
[_Shelters_ Charlot, _that she may not see_ Wilding.

_Wild_. Death and the Devil, Meriwill above!

Sir _Anth_. Ah, the Boy’s Rival here! By George, here may be breathing this Morning--No matter, here’s two to two; come, Gentlemen, you must in. [_Thrusts the Musick in, and goes in_.

_Dres_. Is’t not what you expected? nay, what you wisht?

_Wild_. What then? it comes too suddenly upon me-- E’er my last Kiss was cold upon her Lips, Before the pantings of her Breast were laid, Rais’d by her joys with me; Oh, damn’d deluding Woman!

_Dres_. Be wise, and do not ruin where you love.

_Wild_. Nay, if thou com’st to reasoning, thou hast lost me.
[_Breaks from him, and runs in_.

_Char_. I say ‘twas _Wilding’s_ Voice, and I will follow it.

_Fop_. How, Madam, wou’d you after him?

_Char_. Nay, force me not; by Heaven, I’ll cry a Rape, Unless you let me go--Not after him! Yes, to the infernal Shades--Unhand me, Sir.

_Fop_. How, Madam, have you then design’d my Ruin?

_Char_. Oh, trust me, Sir, I am a Maid of Honour.
[_Runs in after_ Wild.

Mrs. _Clack_. So; a Murrain of your Projects, we’re all undone now: For my part I’ll e’en after her, and deny to have any hand in the Business. [_Goes in_.

_Fop_. Damn all ill Luck, was ever Man thus Fortune-bit, that he shou’d cross my Hopes just in the nick? But shall I lose her thus? No, Gad, I’ll after her; and come the worst, I have an Impudence shall out-face a Middlesex Jury, and out-swear a Discoverer. [_Goes in_.

SCENE V. _Changes to a Chamber_.

_Enter Lady_ Galliard, _pursued by Sir_ Charles, _and Footman_.

L. _Gal_. Sirrah, run to my Lord Mayor’s, and require some of his Officers to assist me instantly; and d’ye hear, Rascal, bar up my Doors, and let none of his mad Crew enter. [_To the Footman who is going_.

Sir _Char_. William, you may stay, William.

L. _Gal_. I say, obey me, Sirrah.

Sir _Char_. Sirrah, I say--know your Lord and Master.

_Will_. I shall, Sir. [_Goes out_.

L. _Gal_. Was ever Woman teaz’d thus? pursue me not.

Sir _Char_. You are mistaken, I’m disobedient grown, Since we became one Family; and when I’ve us’d you thus a Week or two, you will Grow weary of this peevish fooling.

L. _Gal_. Malicious thing, I wo’not, I am resolv’d I’ll tire thee out merely in spite, to have the better of thee.

Sir _Char_. I’m as resolv’d as you, and do your worst, For I’m resolv’d never to quit thy House.

L. _Gal_. But, Malice, there are Officers i’th’ City, that will not see me us’d thus, and will be here anon.

Sir _Char_. Magistrates! why, they shall be welcome, if they be honest and loyal; if not, they may be hang’d in Heaven’s good time.

L. _Gal_. Are you resolv’d to be thus obstinate? Fully resolv’d to make this way your Conquest?

Sir _Char_. Most certainly, I’ll keep you honest to your Word, my Dear-- I’ve Witness--

L. _Gal_. You will?

Sir _Char_. You’ll find it so.

L. _Gal_. Then know, if thou darest marry me, I will so plague thee, be so reveng’d for all those Tricks thou hast play’d me-- Dost thou not dread the Vengeance Wives can take?

Sir _Char_. Not at all: I’ll trust thy Stock of Beauty with thy Wit.

L. _Gal_. Death, I will cuckold thee.

Sir _Char_. Why, then I shall be free o’th’ Reverend City.

L. _Gal_. Then I will game without cessation, till I’ve undone thee.

Sir _Char_. Do, that all the Fops of empty Heads and Pockets may know where to be sure of a Cully; and may they rook ye till ye lose, and fret, and chafe, and rail those youthful Eyes to sinking; watch your fair Face to pale and withered Leanness.

L. _Gal_. Then I will never let thee bed with me, but when I please.

Sir _Char_. For that, see who’ll petition first, and then I’ll change for new ones every Night.

_Enter_ William.

_Will_. Madam, here’s Mr. _Wilding_ at the Door, and will not be deny’d seeing you.

L. _Gal_. Hah, _Wilding_! Oh, my eternal Shame! Now thou hast done thy worst.

Sir _Char_. Now for a Struggle ‘twixt your Love and Honour! --Yes, here’s the Bar to all my Happiness, You wou’d be left to the wide World and Love, To Infamy, to Scandal, and to _Wilding_; But I have too much Honour in my Passion, To let you loose to ruin: Consider and be wise.

L. _Gal_. Oh, he has toucht my Heart too sensibly. [_Aside_.

Sir _Anth_. [_within_.] As far as good Manners goes I’m yours; But when you press indecently to Ladies Chambers, civil Questions ought to askt, I take it, Sir.

L. _Gal_. To find him here, will make him mad with Jealousy, and in the Fit he’ll utter all he knows: Oh, Guilt, what art thou! [_Aside_.

_Enter Sir_ Anth. Wild, _and_ Dres.

_Dres_. Prithee, dear _Wilding_, moderate thy Passion.

_Wild_. By Heaven, I will; she shall not have the Pleasure to see I am concern’d--Morrow, Widow; you are early up, you mean to thrive, I see, you’re like a Mill that grinds with every Wind.

Sir _Char_. Hah, _Wilding_, this that past last Night at Sir Timothy’s for a Man of Quality? Oh, give him way, _Wilding’s_ my Friend, my Dear, and now I’m sure I have the Advantage of him in my Love. I can forgive a hasty Word or two.

_Wild_. I thank thee, _Charles_--what, you are married then?

L. _Gal_. I hope you’ve no Exception to my Choice.
[_Scornfully_.

_Wild_. False Woman, dost thou glory in thy Perfidy? [_To her aside angrily_. --Yes, Faith, I’ve many Exceptions to him-- [_Aloud_. Had you lov’d me, you’d pitcht upon a Blockhead, Some spruce gay Fool of Fortune, and no more, Who would have taken so much Care of his own ill-favour’d Person, He shou’d have had no time to have minded yours, But left it to the Care of some fond longing Lover.

L. _Gal_. Death, he will tell him all! [_Aside_.] Oh, you are merry, Sir.

_Wild_. No, but thou art wondrous false, False as the Love and Joys you feign’d last Night. [_In a soft Tone aside to her_.

L. _Gal_. Oh, Sir, be tender of those treacherous Minutes.
[_Softly to him_.
--If this be all you have to say to me--
[_Walking away, and speaking loud_.

_Wild_. Faith, Madam, you have us’d me scurvily, To marry, and not give me notice. [_Aloud_. --Curse on thee, did I only blow the Fire To warm another Lover? [To her softly aside.

L. _Gal_. Perjur’d--was’t not by your Advice I married? --Oh, where was then your Love? [_Softly to him aside_.

_Wild_. So soon did I advise? Didst thou invite me to the Feast of Love, To snatch away my Joys as soon as tasted? Ah, where was then you Modesty and Sense of Honour? [_Aside to her in a low Tone_.

L. _Gal_. Ay, where indeed, when you so quickly vanquisht? [_Soft_. --But you, I find, are come prepared to rail. [_Aloud_.

_Wild_. No, ‘twas with thee to make my last Effort against your scorn. [_Shews her the Writings_. And this I hop’d, when all my Vows and Love, When all my Languishments cou’d nought avail, Had made ye mine for ever. [_Aloud_.

_Enter Sir_ Anthony, _pulling in Sir_ Tim. _and_ Diana.

Sir _Anth_. Morrow, _Charles_; Morrow to your Ladyship: _Charles_, bid Sir _Timothy_ welcome; I met him luckily at the Door, and am resolv’d none of my Friends shall pass this joyful Day without giving thee Joy, _Charles_, and drinking my Lady’s Health.

_Wild_. Hah, my Uncle here so early? [_Aside_.

Sir _Tim_. What, has your Ladyship serv’d me so? How finely I had been mump’d now, if I had not took Heart of Grace, and shew’d your Ladyship Trick for Trick? for I have been this Morning about some such Business of Life too, Gentlemen: I am married to this fair Lady, the Daughter and Heiress of Sir _Nicholas Gett-all_, Knight and Alderman.

_Wild_. Ha, married to _Diana_! How fickle is the Faith of common Women!
[_Aside_.

Sir _Tim_. Hum, who’s here, my Lord? What, I see your Lordship has found the way already to the fair Ladies; but I hope your Lordship will do my Wedding-dinner the Honour to grace it with your Presence.

_Wild_. I shall not fail, Sir. A Pox upon him, he’ll discover all.
[_Aside_.

L. _Gal_. I must own, Sir Timothy, you have made the better Choice.

Sir _Tim_. I cou’d not help my Destiny; Marriages are made in Heaven, you know.

_Enter_ Charlot _weeping, and_ Clacket.

_Charl_. Stand off, and let me loose as are my Griefs, Which can no more be bounded: Oh, let me face The perjur’d, false, forsworn!

L. _Gal_. Fair Creature, who is’t that you seek with so much Sorrow?

_Charl_. Thou, thou fatally fair Inchantress.
[_Weeps_.

_Wild. Charlot_! Nay, then I am discover’d.

L. _Gal_. Alas, what wou’dst thou?

_Charl_. That which I cannot have, thy faithless Husband. Be Judge, ye everlasting Powers of Love, Whether he more belongs to her or me.

Sir _Anth_. How, my Nephew claim’d! Why, how now, Sirrah, have you been dabling here?

Sir _Char_. By Heaven, I know her not.--Hark ye, Widow, this is some Trick of yours, and ‘twas well laid: and Gad, she’s so pretty, I cou’d find in my Heart to take her at her word.

L. _Gal_. Vile Man, this will not pass your Falshood off. Sure, ‘tis some Art to make me jealous of him, To find how much I value him.

Sir _Char_. Death, I’ll have the Forgery out;--Tell me, thou pretty weeping Hypocrite, who was it set thee on to lay a Claim to me?

_Charl_. To you! Alas, who are you? for till this moment I never saw your Face.

L. _Gal_. Mad as the Seas when all the Winds are raging.

Sir _Tim_. Ay, ay, Madam, stark mad! Poor Soul--Neighbour, pray let her lie i’th’ dark, d’ye hear.

Sir _Char_. How came you, pretty one, to lose your Wits thus?

_Charl_. With loving, Sir, strongly, with too much loving. --Will you not let me see the lovely false one? [_To L_. Gal. For I am told you have his Heart in keeping.

L. Gal_. Who is he? pray describe him.

_Charl_. A thing just like a Man, or rather Angel! He speaks, and looks, and loves, like any God! All fine and gay, all manly, and all sweet: And when he swears he loves, you wou’d swear too That all his Oaths were true.

Sir _Anth_. Who is she? some one who knows her and is wiser, speak--you, Mistress. [_To_ Clacket.

Mrs. _Clack_. Since I must speak, there comes the Man of Mischief: ’.is you, I mean, for all your Leering, Sir. [_To_ Wild.

_Wild_. So.

Sir _Tim_. What, my Lord?

Mrs. _Clack_. I never knew your Nephew was a Lord: Has his Honour made him forget his Honesty?

[Charlot. _runs, and catches him in her Arms_.

_Charl_. I have thee, and I’ll die thus grasping thee; Thou art my own, no Power shall take thee from me.

_Wild_. Never; thou truest of thy Sex, and dearest, Thou soft, thou kind, thou constant Sufferer, This moment end thy Fears; for I am thine.

_Charl_. May I believe thou art not married then?

_Wild_. How can I, when I’m yours? How cou’d I, when I love thee more than Life? Now, Madam, I am reveng’d on all your Scorn, [_To L_. Galliard. --And, Uncle, all your Cruelty.

Sir _Tim_. Why, what, are you indeed my Nephew Thomas?

_Wild_. I am _Tom Wilding_, Sir, that once bore some such Title, till you discarded me, and left me to live upon my Wits.

Sir _Tim_. What, and are you no Polish Embassador then incognito?

_Wild_. No, Sir, nor you no King Elect, but must e’en remain as you were ever, Sir, a most seditious pestilent old Knave; one that deludes the Rabble with your Politicks, then leaves ‘em to be hang’d, as they deserve, for silly mutinous Rebels.

Sir _Tim_. I’ll peach the Rogue, and then he’ll be hang’d in course, because he’s a Tory. One comfort is, I have cozen’d him of his rich Heiress; for I’m married, Sir, to Mrs. _Charlot_.

_Wild_. Rather _Diana_, Sir; I wish you Joy: See here’s _Charlot_. I was not such a Fool to trust such Blessings with the Wicked.

_Sir Charl_. How, Mrs. Dy Ladyfi’d! This is an excellent way of disposing an old cast-off Mistress.

Sir _Tim_. How, have I married a Strumpet then?

_Dia_. You give your Nephew’s Mistress, Sir, too coarse a Name. ‘Tis true, I lov’d him, only him, and was true to him.

Sir _Tim_. Undone, undone! I shall ne’er make Guildhall-Speech more: but he shall hang for’t, if there be e’er a Witness to be had between this and Salamanca for Money.

_Wild_. Do your worst, Sir; Witnesses are out of fashion now, Sir, thanks to your Ignoramus Juries.

Sir _Tim_. Then I’m resolv’d to disinherit him.

_Wild_. See, Sir, that’s past your Skill too, thanks to my last Night’s Ingenuity; they’re [shews him the Writings.] sign’d, seal’d, and deliver’d in the presence of, &c.

Sir _Tim_. Bear Witness, ‘twas he that rob’d me last night.

Sir _Anth_. We bear witness, Sir, we know of no such matter we. I thank you for that, Sir; wou’d you make Witnesses of Gentlemen?

Sir _Tim_. No matter for that, I’ll have him hang’d, nay, drawn and quarter’d.

_Wild_. What, for obeying your Commands, and living on my Wits?

Sir _Anth_. Nay, then ‘tis a clear Case, you can neither hang him or blame him.

_Wild_. I’ll propose fairly now; if you’ll be generous and pardon all, I’ll render your Estate back during Life, and put the Writings in Sir Anthony Meriwill’s and Sir _Charles_ his Hands--I have a Fortune here that will maintain me, Without so much as wishing for your Death.

_All_. This is but Reason.

_Sir Charl_. With this Proviso, that he makes not use on’t to promote any Mischief to the King and Government.

_All_. Good and Just. [_Sir_ Tim. _pauses_.

Sir _Tim_. Hum, I’d as good quietly agree to’t, as lose my Credit by making a Noise.--Well, _Tom_, I pardon all, and will be Friends. [Gives him his Hand.

_Sir Charl_. See, my dear Creature, even this hard old Man is mollify’d at last into good Nature; yet you’ll still be cruel.

L. _Gal_. No, your unwearied Love at last has vanquisht me. Here, be as happy as a Wife can make ye--One last look more, and then--be gone, fond Love.

[_Sighing and looking on_ Wilding, _giving Sir_ Charles _her Hand_.

_Sir Charl_. Come, Sir, you must receive _Diana_ too; she is a cheerful witty Girl, and handsome, one that will be a Comfort to your Age, and bring no Scandal home. Live peaceably, and do not trouble your decrepid Age with Business of State.

Let all things in their own due Order move,
Let Caesar be the Kingdom’s Care and Love;
Let the hot-headed Mutineers petition,
And meddle in the Rights of just Succession:
But may all honest Hearts as one agree
To bless the King, and Royal Albany.

[_Exeunt_.