Chapter XXVIII: Act II: SCENE I. Sir Rowland’s Lodging

Enter Sir _Rowland_, _Teresia_, and Lady _Youthly_, &c.

L. _Youth._ Well, Sir _Rowland_, if I should be inclin’d to cast away my self on your Son _George_, what wou’d you settle?

Sir _Row._ Settle! not a Souse, Madam; he carries the best younger Brother’s Fortune in _Christendom_ about him.

L. _Youth._ Why, the young Man’s deserving, I confess. But he’s your Son, Sir _Rowland_, and something ought to be settled upon the Heirs of our Bodies, lawfully begotten.

Sir _Row._ All _Hercules_ his Labours were a Jig to his that shall beget
’.m.
[Aside.
If you like him upon these terms, to make him Master of your Fortune--

L. _Youth._ For that, let him trust to me, and his own deservings.

Sir _Row._ No trusting in these fickle Times, Madam--Why, I’ll let the young sturdy Rogue out to hire; he’ll make a pretty Livelihood at Journey-Work; and shall a Master-Workman, a Husband, deserve nothing?

L. _Youth._ Ay, these Husbands that know their own Strength, as they say, set so high a value on their conjugal Virtues. And if he be disloyal, again o’t’.ther side he gives a Wife so ill an Example--for we are all liable to Temptations.

Sir _Row._ Well said; if thou beest so, it must be the old Tempter himself. [Aside. Look ye, Madam, I’ll propose a fair Swap; if you’ll consent that I shall marry _Teresia_, I’ll consent that you shall marry _George_.

L. _Youth._ How, my Grand-daughter? Why, I design’d her for your eldest Son, Sir _Merlin_; and she has a good Fortune of five hundred a year that I cannot hinder her of; and is too young for you.

Sir _Row._ So is _George_ for your Ladyship; and as for his Fortune, ’.is more than likely I shall make him my eldest Son.

L. _Youth._ Say you so, Sir, well, I’ll consider, and take Advice of my Friends.

Sir _Row._ Consider! alas, Madam, my House will be besieged by all the Widows in Town; I shall get more by shewing him, than the _Rhinoceros_. Gad, I’ll sell the young Rogue by Inch of Candle, before he’s debauch’d and spoil’d in this leud Town.

L. _Youth._ Well, suppose--

Sir _Row._ Nothing under _Teresia_--Gad, I think some old Dog-Star reigns to Day, that so many old Hearts are burning in their Sockets--I’m in love with this young Tittymouse here, most damnably--Well, what say you, Widow? Speak now, or you know the Proverb.

L. _Youth._ Well, Sir _Rowland_, you are too hard for me.

[Ex. all but _Teresia_.

Enter _Olivia_, runs to her and embraces her.

_Ter._ ‘Tis as you said, _Olivia_, I am destin’d to your Father.

_Oliv._ What, the Sentence is past then?

_Ter._ Ay, but the Devil is in us, if we stay till Execution Day: Why, this is worse than being mew’d up at _Hackney-School_--my Fortune’s my own, without my Grandmother, and with that Stock I’ll set up for my self, and see what Traffick this wide World affords a young beginner.

_Oliv._ That’s well resolv’d; I am of the same mind, rather than marry Mr. _Welborn_, whom I never saw.--But prithee let’s see what we have in Stock, besides ready Money--What Toys and Knick-nacks to invite.

_Ter._ Faith, my Inventory is but small--Let me see--First, one pretty well made Machine, call’d a Body, of a very good Motion, fit for several uses--one pretty conceited Head-Piece, that will fit any body’s Coxcomb,--when ‘tis grave and dull, ‘twill fit an Alderman; when politick and busy, a Statesman; turn it to Intrigue, ‘twill fit a City Wife; and to Invention, it will set up an Evidence.

_Oliv._ Very well!

_Ter._ _Item_, One Tongue, that will prattle Love, if you put the Heart in time (for they are Commodities I resolve shall go together) I have Youth enough to please a Lover, and Wit enough to please my self.

_Oliv._ Most excellent Trifles all! As for my out-side, I leave to the Discretion of the Chafferer; but I have a rare Device, call’d an Invention, that can do many Feats; a Courage that wou’d stock a Coward; and a pretty Implement, call’d a Heart, that will strike fire with any convenient force: I have eight thousand Pounds to let out on any able Security, but not a Groat unless I like the Man.

_Ter._ Thus furnish’d, we shall ruin all the _Jews_, and undo the _India_ Houses--But where shall we show? where meet with the Love-Merchants?

_Oliv._ What think you of the Gallery at the Play in Masks?

_Ter._ Shu, a State-Trick, first taken up by Women of Quality, and now run into Ridicule, by all the little common Devils of the Town; and is only a Trap for a Termer, a small new rais’d Officer, or a City Cully, where they baul out their eighteen Pence in Baudy, and filthy Nonsense, to the disturbance of the whole House, and the King’s Peace: the Men of Quality have forsaken it.

_Oliv._ What think you of the _Mall_?

_Ter._ As too publick to end an Intrigue; our Affairs require a Conquest as sudden as that of _Cæsar_, who came, saw and overcame.

_Oliv._ ‘Tis true, besides there’s so many Cruisers, we shall never board a Prize. What think you of the Church?

_Ter._ An hypocritical Shift; of all Masks I hate that of Religion; and it shou’d be the last place I’d wish to meet a Lover in, unless to marry him.

_Oliv._ And, Faith, that’s the last thing a Lover shou’d do, but we are compell’d to haste, ‘tis our last Refuge; if we cou’d but see and like our Men, the business were soon dispatcht.--Let me see--Faith, e’en put on Breeches too, and thus disguis’d seek our Fortune--I am within these three days to be fetch’d from _Hackney School_, where my Father believes me still to be, and thou in that time to be marry’d to the old Gentleman; Faith, resolve--and let’s in and dress thee--away, here’s my Lady--

[They run out.

SCENE II. A Chamber.

Enter _Mirtilla_ and Mrs. _Manage_.

_Mir._ Ah, let me have that Song again.

A Song by Mr. _Gildon_.

I.

_No, _Delia_, no: What Man can range
From such Seraphic Pleasure?
‘Tis want of Charms that make us change,
To grasp the Fury, Treasure.
What Man of Sense wou’d quit a certain Bliss,
For Hopes and empty Possibilities?_

II.

_Vain Fools! that sure Possessions spend,
In hopes of Chymic Treasure,
But for their fancy’d Riches find
Both want of Gold and Pleasure.
Rich in my Delia, I can wish no more;
The Wanderer, like the Chymist, must be poor._

_Man._ Not see him, Madam--I protest he’s handsomer, and handsomer, _Paris_ has given him such an Air:--Lord, he’s all over Monsieur--Not see him, Madam--Why? I hope you do not, like the foolish sort of Wives, design a strict Obedience to your Husband.

_Mir._ Away, a Husband!--when Absence, that sure Remedy of Love, had heal’d the bleeding Wound _Lejere_ had made, by Heaven, I thought I ne’er shou’d love again--but since _Endymion_ has inspir’d my Soul, and for that Youth I burn, I pine, I languish.

Enter _George_ richly drest, stands at a distance gazing on
_Mirtilla_.

_Man._ See, Madam, there’s an Object may put out that Flame, and may revive the old one.

_Mir._ Shame and Confusion.--_Lejere._ [Turns and walks away.

_Geo._ Yonder she is, that Mien and Shape I know, though the false Face be turn’d with shame away. [Offers to advance, and stops. --’Sdeath,--I tremble! yet came well fortify’d with Pride and Anger. I see thou’st in thy Eyes a little Modesty. [Goes to her nearer. That wou’d conceal the Treasons of thy Heart.

_Mir._ Perhaps it is their Scorn that you mistake.

_Geo._ It may be so; she that sets up for Jilting, shou’d go on; ‘Twere mean to find remorse, so young, and soon: Oh, this gay Town has gloriously improv’d you amongst the rest; that taught you Perjury.

_Mir._ Alas! when was it sworn?

_Geo._ In the blest Age of Love, When every Power look’d down, and heard thy Vows.

_Mir._ I was a Lover then; shou’d Heaven concern it self with Lovers Perjuries, ‘twould find no leisure to preserve the Universe.

_Geo._ And was the Woman so strong in thee, thou couldst not wait a little? Were you so raving mad for Fool and Husband, you must take up with the next ready Coxcomb. Death, and the Devil, a dull clumsey Boor!--What was it charm’d you? The beastly quantity of Man about him?

_Mir._ Faith, a much better thing, five thousand Pounds a Year, his Coach and Six, it shews well in the _Park_.

_Geo._ Did I want Coach, or Equipage, and Shew?

_Mir._ But still there wanted Fool, and Fortune to’t; He does not play at the Groom-Porter’s for it; nor do the Drudgery of some worn-out Lady.

_Geo._ If I did this, thou hadst the spoils of all my Nation’s Conquests, while all the whole World was wondering whence it came; for Heav’n had left thee nothing but thy Beauty, that dear Reward of my industrious Love.

_Mir._ I do confess--

_Geo._ Till time had made me certain of a Fortune, which now was hasting on.--

And is that store of Love and wondrous Joys I had been hoarding up so many tender Hours, all lavish’d on a Brute, who never lusted ‘bove my Lady’s Woman? for Love he understands no more than Sense.

_Mir._ Prithee reproach me on-- [Sighs.

_Geo._ ‘Sdeath, I cou’d rave! Is this soft tender Bosom to be prest by such a Load of Fool? Damnation on thee--Where got’st thou this coarse Appetite? Take back the Powers, those Charms she’s sworn adorn’d me, since a dull, fat-fac’d, noisy, taudry Blockhead, can serve her turn as well. [Offers to go.

_Mir._ You shall not go away with that Opinion of me.--

_Geo._ Oh, that false Tongue can now no more deceive--Art thou not marry’d? Tell me that, false Charmer.

_Mir._ Yes.-- [Holding him.

_Geo._ Curse on that word: wou’d thou hadst never learnt it--it gave thy Heart, and my Repose away.

_Mir._ Dost think I marry’d with that dull design? Canst thou believe I gave my Heart away, because I gave my Hand?--Fond Ceremony that--A necessary trick, devis’d by wary Age, to traffick ‘twixt a Portion and a Jointure; him whom I lov’d, is marry’d to my Soul.

_Geo._ Art thou then mine? And wilt thou make Atonement, by such a charming way?--Come to my clasping Arms.

Enter Lady _Blunder_ at the Door. Sees ‘em, and offers to go out
again.

L. _Blun._ Oh, Heavens! How rude am I?--Cry Mercy, Madam, I protest I thought you’d been alone.

_Geo._ ‘Sdeath! my Aunt _Blunder_! [Aside.

_Mir._ Only this Gentleman, Madam--

L. _Blun._ Sir, I beg your Pardon--and am really sorry--

_Geo._ That you find me with your Daughter, Madam.

L. _Blun._ I hope you take me to be better bred, Sir: Nor had I interrupted you, but for an Accident that has happen’d to Sir _Morgan_, coming out of the City in a beastly Hackney-Coach, he was turn’d over in _Cheap-side_, and striking the filthy Coach-man, the nasty Mob came out, and had almost kill’d him, but for a young Gentleman, a Stranger, that came to his Rescue, and whom he has brought to kiss your Ladyship’s Hands--But I’ll instruct him in his Duty, he shall wait till your Ladyship is more at leisure--alas! he’s already on the Stairs. [Exit.

_Mir._ Let him wait there--_Lejere_, ‘tis necessary you depart, sure of my Heart, you cannot fear the rest; the Night is hasting on; trust me but some few Hours, and then, _Lejere_, I’ll pay you back with Interest.

_Geo._ All Blessings light on thee. But will your Lady Mother make no Discovery of my being here?

_Mir._ She’d sooner pimp for me, and believe it a part of good Breeding:--away, I hear ‘em coming. [She puts him out at a back-Door.

Enter Lady _Blunder_ peeping.

L. _Blun._ He’s gone--Sir _Morgan_, you may approach.

Enter Sir _Morgan_, pulling in the _Prince_, Sir _Merlin_, and a
_Page_ to the _Prince_.

Sir _Morg._ Nay, as Gat shall save me, Sir, you shall see my Lady, or so, d’ye see, and receive the Thanks of the House.

_Prince._ As Gat shall save me, Sir, I am sorry for it--another time, Sir: I have earnest business. Now, I am sure nothing worth seeing can belong to this litter of Fools.

L. _Blun._ My Daughter is a Person of Quality, I assure you, Sir.

_Prince._ I doubt it not, Madam--If she be of the same Piece--Send me a
fair Deliverance.
[Sir _Morgan_ leads him to _Mirtilla_, he starts.
--Ha! What bright Vision’s that?

_Mir._ Heav’n! ‘Tis the lovely Prince I saw in _Flanders_. [Aside.

Sir _Mer._ Look how he stares--why, what the Devil ails he?

Sir _Morg._ To her, Sir, or so, d’ye see, what a Pox, are you afraid of her?

L. _Blun._ He’s in Admiration of her Beauty, Child.

_Prince._ By Heav’n, the very Woman I adore! [Aside.

Sir _Morg._ How d’ye, see, Sir, how do ye, ha, ha, ha?

_Prince._ I cannot be mistaken; for Heav’n made nothing but young Angels like her!

Sir _Morg._ Look ye, Page, is your Master in his right Wits?

Sir _Mer._ Sure he’s in love, and Love’s a devilish thing.

Sir _Morg._ Sa, ho, ho, ho, where are you, Sir, where are you?

_Prince._ In Heav’n! [Puts him away. Oh! do not rouse me from this charming Slumber, lest I shou’d wake, and find it but a Dream.

Sir _Mer._ A plaguy dull Fellow this, that can sleep in so good Company as we are.

Sir _Morg._ Dream--A Fiddle-stick; to her, Man, to her, and kiss her soundly, or so, d’ye see.

Sir _Mer._ Ay, ay; kiss her, Sir, kiss her--ha, ha, ha, he’s very simple.

_Prince._ Kiss her,--there’s universal Ruin in her Lips.

_Mir._ I never knew ‘em guilty of such Mischiefs.

Sir _Morg._ No, I’ll be sworn, I have kist ‘em twenty times, and they never did me harm.

_Prince._ Thou kiss those Lips? impossible, and false; they ne’er were prest but by soft _Southern_ Winds.

Sir _Morg._ _Southern_ Winds--ha, ha, lookye, d’ye see, Boy, thy Master’s mad, or so, d’ye see--why, what a Pox, d’ye think I never kiss my Wife, or so, d’ye see.

_Prince._ Thy Wife!--

_Mir._ He will betray his Passion to these Fools: Alas, he’s mad--and will undo my Hopes. [Aside.

_Prince._ Thou mayst as well claim Kindred to the Gods; she’s mine, a Kingdom shall not buy her from me.

Sir _Morg._ Hay day, my Wife yours! look ye, as d’ye see, what, is it _Midsummer-moon_ with you, Sir, or so, d’ye see?

_Mir._ In pity give him way, he’s madder than a Storm.

_Prince._ Thou know’st thou art, and thy dear Eyes confess it--a numerous Train attended our Nuptials, witness the Priest, witness the sacred Altar where we kneel’d--when the blest silent Ceremony was perform’d.

_Mir._ Alas! he’s mad, past all recovery mad.

Sir _Mer._ Mad, say, poor Soul--Friend, how long has your Master been thus intoxicated?

_Page._ He’s mad indeed to make this Discovery. [Aside. Alas, Sir, he’s thus as often as he sees a beautiful Lady, since he lost a Mistress, who dy’d in _Flanders_ to whom he was contracted.

Sir _Mer._ Good lack--ay, ay, he’s distracted, it seems.

_Page._ See how he kneels to her! stand off, and do but mind him.

_Mir._ Rise, Sir,--you’l ruin me--dissemble if you love--or you can ne’er be happy. [In a low Voice, and raising him.

_Prince._ My Transport is too high for a Disguise--give me some hope, promise me some Relief, or at your Feet I’ll pierce a wounded Heart.

_Mir._ Rise, and hope for all you wish: Alas, he faints--
[She takes him up, he falls upon her Bosom.

_Page._ Hold him fast, Madam, between your Arms, and he’ll recover presently. Stand all away.--

_Prince._ Oh! tell me, wilt thou bless my Youth and Love? Oh! swear, lest thou shouldst break--for Women wou’d be Gods, but for Inconstancy.

_Page._ See, he begins to come to himself again--keep off--

_Mir._ You have a thousand Charms that may secure you--The Ceremony of my Nuptials is every Evening celebrated, the noise of which draws all the Town together; be here in Masquerade, and I’ll contrive it so, that you shall speak with me this Night alone.

_Prince._ So, now let my Soul take Air--

L. _Blun._ What pity ‘tis so fine a Gentleman shou’d be thus.

_Mir._ You must be bringing home your Fops to me, and see what comes of it. [As she passes out.

Sir _Morg._ Fops! I thought him no more a Fop, than I do my own natural Cousin here. [Ex. _Mir._ in Scorn.

_Prince._ Where am I? [The _Page_ has whispered him.

Sir _Mer._ Why, here, Sir, here, at Sir _Morgan Blunder’s_ Lodging in _Lincolns-Inn-Fields_.

_Prince._ That’s well, he has told me--Where have I been this long half hour, and more?

Sir _Mer._ Nay, the Lord knows.

_Prince._ I fancy’d I saw a lovely Woman.

Sir _Mer._ Fancy’d--why, so you did, Man, my Lady _Mirtilla Blunder_.

_Prince._ Methought I slept upon her snowy Bosom, and dreamt I was in Heaven, where I claim’d her.

Sir _Mer._ Good lack aday--why, so you did, Sir, ha, ha, ha.

_Prince._ And rav’d on Love; and talk’d abundance of Nonsense.

Sir _Morg._ Ha, ha, ha, by my Troth, and so you did, Sir.

_Prince._ I ask your Pardon, Sir, ‘tis an infirmity I have that ever takes me at the approach of a fine Woman, which made me so unwilling to see your Lady.

Sir _Morg._ Lookye, I ask your Pardon heartily, or so, d’ye see--and am sorry you are not in a Condition to visit her often.

_Prince._ I shall be better when I am us’d to her; ‘tis the first time only affects me.

Sir _Morg._ Pray, Sir, be pleas’d to use your self to her, or so, d’ye see--she’s a civil Person, and a Person of Quality before I marry’d her, d’ye see.

L. _Blun._ My Son tells you Truth, Sir.

_Prince._ Madam, I doubt it not, pray beg her Pardon, and do you give me yours. [Bows and kisses her Hand and goes out.

L. _Blun._ A most accomplish’d Person--

[Exeunt.

SCENE III. Another Chamber.

Enter _Olivia_ and _Teresia_, in Mens Clothes.

_Oliv._ Well, the Ball does not begin these three Hours, and we’ll divert our selves at my Aunt’s Basset-Table, which you see is preparing; her natural Propensity to oblige both Sexes makes her keep a Bank on purpose to bring ‘em together. There we shall see the old and the young, the ugly and the handsome, Fools that have Money, and Wits that have none; and if the Table affords nothing to please the Appetite, we’ll abroad for Forage.

Enter Sir _Merlin_ pulling in _George_, follow’d by Sir _Morgan_,
Page and Footmen to _George_.

Sir _Mer._ Nay, Sir, I am resolv’d you shall honour my Aunt’s Basset-Table--

_Geo._ My Aunt’s Basset-Table? There may be Money stirring among these Fools, and Fortune may befriend me. [Aside.

Sir _Mer._ Sir _Morgan_, pray know this worthy Gentleman, I have the honour to lodge in the House with him. [They salute one another. Sir, this is Sir _Morgan Blunder_, a Person of Quality in _Wales_, I assure you.

_Geo._ I question it not, Sir, and am proud of the Honour of kissing your Hands.

_Ter._ Yonder’s a handsom Gentleman.

_Oliv._ My Brother _George_, as I live, ‘tis as I cou’d wish.
[Aside.

Enter _Welborn_.

_Wel._ _Lejere!_

_Geo._ _Welborn!_ Welcome from _Paris_, I heard of your arrival from Prince _Frederick_.

_Wel._ Yes, I am come to my Destruction, Friend.

_Geo._ Ay, thou’rt to be marry’d, I hear, to a _Welch_ Fortune.

_Wel._ Though Matrimony be a sufficient Curse, yet that’s not the worst--I am fall’n most damnably in love, since I arriv’d, with a young Creature I saw in the _Mall_ t’other Night; of Quality she was, I dare swear, by all that was about her; but such a Shape! a Face! a Wit! a Mind, as in a moment quite subdu’d my Heart: she had another Lady with her, whom (dogging her Coach) I found to be a Neighbour of mine, and Grand-Daughter to the Lady _Youthly_; but who my Conqueror was I never since could learn.

_Oliv._ ‘Slife, _Teresia_, yonder’s the handsom Fellow that entertain’d us with so much Wit, on _Thursday_ last in the _Mall_.

_Ter._ What, when you chang’d your Breeches for Petticoats at my Lodgings.

_Oliv._ That Night, and ever since, I have felt a sort of a Tendre for him.

_Ter._ As I do for his Friend--Pray Heav’n he be not marry’d! I fear he has laid an Imbargo on my Heart, before it puts out of the Port.

_Geo._ Are you not for the Basset?

_Wel._ No, I’ve business at the Ball to night; besides, my Lady _Blunder_ has a Quarrel to me for last Night’s Debauch; I’ll wait on you in the Morning. [Exit _Welborn_.

_Geo._ Well, you to your Business, and I to mine.
[Speaks as the rest go out.
Let the dull trading Fool by Business live,
Statesmen by Plots; the Courtier cringe to thrive;
The Fop of Noise and Wealth be cullied on,
And purchase no one Joy by being undone,
Whilst I by nobler careless ways advance,
Since Love and Fortune are acquir’d by Chance.

[Exeunt Omnes.

_The End of the Second Act._

A Song, sung by Sir _Rowland_ in the second Act.

To _TERESIA_.

_Though the Young prize _Cupid’s_ Fire,
‘Tis more valu’d by the Old;
The Sun’s Warmth we now admire,
More than when the Season’s cold._

_Dialogues in the Masque, at the beginning of the third Act._

_He._ Time and Place you see conspire,
With tender Wishes, fierce Desire;
See the willing Victim stands
To be offer’d by your Hands:
Ah! Let me on Love’s Altars lying,
Clasp my Goddess whilst I’m dying.

_She._ Oh Lord! what hard words, and strange things d’ye say;
Your Eyes too seem closing, and just dying away:
Ah! pray what d’ye want? Explain but your mind,
Which did I but know, perhaps I’d be kind.

_He._ My pretty soft Maid, full of innocent Charms,
I languish to sigh out my Soul in thy Arms;
Oh! then, if I’m lov’d, deny not the Bliss,
But tell me I’m happy, with a ravishing Kiss.

_She._ Oh! Fy, Sir, I vow I cannot endure you;
Be civil, or else I’ll cry out I assure you;
I will not be kiss’d so, nor tumbled, not I,
I’ll tell all your tricks, that I will, if I die.

_He._ Nay, never dissemble, nor smother that Fire;
Your Blushes, and Eyes betray your Desire.
The Practis’d, not Innocent, dally with Bliss,
Then prithee be kind, and taste what it is.

_She._ Let me die now, you’re grown a strange sort of a Man,
To force a young Maid, let her do what she can;
I fear now I blush to think what we’re doing,
And is this the end of all you Men’s wooing?

_He._ At this Pleasure all aim, both Godly and Sinners,
And none of ‘em blush for’t but poor young Beginners.
In Pleasure both Sexes, all Ages agree,
And those that take most, most happy will be.

_Chorus_. In Pleasure both Sexes, &c.