Chapter XXIX: Act III: SCENE I. A rich Chamber

Enter _Olivia_ as a Man, _Teresia_ in Masquerade; the Scene
opens, and discovers Lady _Youthly_, Lady _Blunder_, _Mirtilla_,
_Manage_, Prince _Frederick_ in a rich Habi, _Welborn_ in one like
his, with a Cloke over him, stands aside, and several others of
both Sexes.

_Oliv._ Oh, my dear _Teresia_, I’m lost in Love! I’ve seen a Man,--or rather ‘tis an Angel! so gay, so soft, so charming, and so witty; so dress’d! so shap’d! and danc’d with such an Air!

_Ter._ Hey day! Prithee where’s this Wonder to be seen?

_Oliv._ Why dost thou ask? Hast thou not seen a Man of Dress, and Movement of uncommon Fashion?

_Ter._ A great many, very odd, and fantastick, I’m sure my dear Man is none of ‘em. [Sighs.

_Oliv._ Thy Heart when fir’d burns easily, and soft, but I am all impatient, Darts, and Flames, and all the effects of Love are panting in my Heart, yet never saw his Face: but see, he comes, and I must find a way to let him know the mischiefs he has done.

_Mir._ _Endimion_, where’s Sir _Morgan_?

_Oliv._ At his usual Diversion, Madam, drinking.

_Mir._ Do you wait near me to Night, I may perhaps have kinder Business for you e’er the Morning.

_Oliv._ You heap too many Blessings on me, Madam.

_Prince._ Oh, turn thy lovely Eyes upon thy Slave, that waits and watches for a tender Look.

_Mir._ Oh, Sir, why do you press a yielding Heart too much, undone by what you’ve said already?

_Oliv._ Those soft Addresses must be those of Love. [Aside.

_Mir._ My Honour was in danger when I promis’d--and yet I blush to tell you I was pleas’d, and blest the dear necessity that forc’d me.

_Oliv._ Ha! ‘tis the Man I love--and courts _Mirtilla_, and she receives him with inviting Looks. ‘Sdeath, she’s a common Lover! already I’m arriv’d to Jealousy!

Enter _George_ in Masquerade, with a Paper on his Back and Breast,
goes to _Mirtilla_, sees one courting her.

_Geo._ What gilded thing is that?--I must disturb ‘em--’Tis I, _Mirtilla_, languishing for the appointed Happiness, while you, perhaps, are taken up with different Thoughts--

_Mir._ _Lejere!_ How very feeble do old Lovers charm! Only the new and gay have pow’r to warm--How shall I put him off? For now my ambitious Love declares for _Frederick_; ‘tis great to enslave a Prince. [Aside. --_Lejere_--wait till I give the word--perhaps it may be late--go mix your self i’th’ Crowd, you may be else suspected-- [Goes from him.

_Ter._ I have a shreud guess that this should be my Man by his Shape,
and Mein.
[Looking round about _George_.
Let me see--What’s this written on his Back?--To be lett ready
furnish’d--
[Reading it.
A very good hearing: So ho, ho, ho, who’s within here?
[Claps him on the Back.

_Geo._ Who’s there? [Exit _Olivia_.

_Ter._ Love and Fortune.

_Geo._ Two very good Friends of mine, prithee who art thou that bring’st ’.m?

_Ter._ A wandring Nymph, that has had a swinging Character of your Person and Parts--if thou be’st the Man, prithee, dear Stranger, let me see thy Face; and if I’m not mistaken, ‘tis ten to one, but we may go near to strike up some odd Bargain or other.

_Geo._ And I am as likely a Fellow for some odd Bargain or other, as ever you met with--Look ye, am I the Man?

_Ter._ Let me see--a very handsome Face, inclining to round; fine wanton Eyes, with a plaguy Roguish Lear; plump, round, red Lips; not tall, nor low, and extremely well fashion’d. [Reads all this in her Tablets. --Ay, ay, you are the Man--

_Geo._ I am glad on’t, and prithee, dear Creature, let me see if thou art not the Woman--

_Ter._ Heav’n! what Woman, Sir?

_Geo._ Why, any Woman that’s pretty, witty, young, and good-natur’d.

_Ter._ I had rather shew anything almost than my Face.

_Geo._ Faith, and that’s kind; but every thing in its due time: I love to arrive at Happiness by degrees, there’s as much Pleasure in the Journey of Love, as in the Arrival to’t, and the first Stage is a handsom Face.

_Ter._ Where you bait a while, take a short Survey, and away.

_Geo._ To Wit, and good Humour; where a Man finds Pleasure enough to engage him a long while.

_Ter._ Then to all the small Villages, call’d little Freedoms, Kissing, Playing, Fooling, Sighing, Dying--and so on to the last Stage, where Whip and Spur laid by, all tir’d and dull, you lazily lie down and sleep.

_Geo._ No, I’m a more vigorous Lover: And since in the Country of True Love there remains a _Terra Incognita_, I shall always be making new Discoveries.

_Ter._ True Love! is there such a thing in the whole Map of Nature?

_Geo._ Yes, I once discover’d it in my Voyage round the World.

_Ter._ Sure ‘tis some enchanted Place, and vanishes as soon as ‘tis approach’d.

Enter Sir _Rowland_.

_Geo._ Faith, let’s set out for it, and try; if we lose our Labour, we
shall, like Searchers for the Philosophers Stone, find something that
will recompense our pains.--
[Lady _Youthly_ sees her, and sends her Woman to take her from
him.
Ha, gone--I must not part so with you--I’ll have you in my Eye.
[The _Spanish_ Dance: Whilst they dance, the _Prince_ talks to
_Mirtilla_.

_Mir._ This Night gives you an Assignation--I tremble at the thought--Ah, why will you pursue me thus to Ruin? Why with resistless Charms invade my Heart, that cannot stand their Force--alone--without my Woman?--the Enterprize with you would be too dangerous.

_Prince._ Dangerous to be ador’d! and at your Feet behold your Slave making eternal Vows?

_Mir._ If I were sure that you would pass no further--

_Prince._ Let the fond God of Love be my Security--will you not trust a Deity?

_Mir._ Whom should she trust, that dares not trust her self?

_Geo._ That is some Lover, whom I must observe. [Aside.

_Mir._ Alas, the Foe’s within that will betray me, Ambition, and our Sex’s Vanity--Sir, you must prevail--

_Prince._ And in return, for ever take my Soul.

_Mir._ Anon I’ll feign an Illness, and retire to my Apartment, whither this faithful Friend shall bring you, Sir. [Pointing to _Manage_.

_Geo._ Hum!--that looks like some Love Bargain, and _Manage_ call’d to Witness. By Heav’n, gay Sir, I’ll watch you.

_Ter._ But hark ye, my Fellow-Adventurer, are you not marry’d?

_Geo._ Marry’d--that’s a Bug-word--prithee if thou hast any such Design, keep on thy Mask, lest I be tempted to Wickedness.

_Ter._ Nay, truth is, ‘tis a thousand pities to spoil a handsom man, to make a dull Husband of: I have known an old batter’d Bully of Seventy, unmarry’d, more agreeable for a Gallant, than any scurvy, out-of-humour’d Husband at Eight and Twenty.

_Geo._ Gad, a thousand times.

_Ter._ Know, I have Five Hundred Pounds a Year.

_Geo._ Good.

_Ter._ And the Devil and all of Expectations from an old Woman.

_Geo._ Very good.

_Ter._ And this Youth, and little Beauty to lay out in love.
[Pulls off her Mask.

_Geo._ _Teresia!_ the lovely Maid design’d for my Mother! now, what a Dog am I? that gives me the greater Gust to her, and wou’d fain cuckold my Father. [Talks to her aside. _Mirtilla_ seems to faint.

_Man._ My Lady faints--help, help.

_Mir._ Only the Heat oppresses me--but let it not disturb the Company, I’ll take the Air a little, and return. [Goes out with _Manage_.

_Geo._ Is this design’d or real?--perhaps she is retir’d for me--Mrs. _Manage_.-- [_Manage_ re-enters, he pulls her by the Sleeve.

_Man._ Hah! Monsieur _Lejere_! what shall I feign to put him off withal.
[Aside.

_Geo._ Why dost thou start? How does my dear _Mirtilla_?

_Man._ Reposing, Sir, awhile, but anon I’ll wait on her for your
admittance.
[Prince _Frederick_ puts on _Welborn’s_ Cloke, goes out, and
_Welborn_ enters into the Company dress’d like the _Prince_.

_Geo._ Ha, she spoke in passing by that gay thing--What means it, but I’ll trace the Mystery.

Sir _Row._ The young People are lazy, and here’s nothing but gaping and peeping in one another’s Vizards; come, Madam, let you and I shame ‘em into Action. [Sir _Rowland_ and Lady _Youthly_ dance. After the Dance, _Olivia_ enters with a Letter, and gives it to _Welborn_.

_Wel._ Ha! what’s this, Sir, a Challenge?

_Oliv._ A soft one, Sir.

_Wel._ A Billet--whoever the Lady be, [Reads.
She merits something for but believing I am worth her Mirth.

_Oliv._ I know not, Sir, how great a Jest you may make of it; but I assure you the Lady is in earnest, and if you be at leisure to hear Reason from her--

_Wel._ Fair and softly, my dear Love-Messenger, I am for no hasty Bargains; not but I shou’d be glad to hear Reason from any of the Sex--But I have been so damnably jilted--Is she of Quality?

_Oliv._ Yes.

_Wel._ Then I’ll not hear any thing from her: they are troublesome, and insolent; and if she have a Husband, to hide her Intrigues she has recourse to all the little Arts and Cunnings of her Sex; and she that jilts her Husband, will her Lover.

_Oliv._ She is not troubled with a Husband, Sir.

_Wel._ What, she’s parted from the Fool! then she’s expensive, and for want of Alimony, jilts all the believing Block-heads that she meets with.

_Oliv._ But this is a Maid, Sir.

_Wel._ Worse still! At every turn she’s raving on her Honour; then if she have a Kinsman, or a Brother, I must be challeng’d.

_Oliv._ Sir, you mistake, my Lady is for Matrimony.

_Wel._ How!

_Oliv._ You have not forsworn it, I hope.

_Wel._ Not so--but--

_Oliv._ If a Lady, young and handsom, and Ten Thousand Pounds--

_Wel._ Nay, I am not positive--

Enter Sir _Morgan_, and Sir _Merlin_, drunk, singing.

_Wise Coxcombs be damn’d, here’s a health to the Man,
That since Life is but short, lives as long as he can._

Sir _Morg._ Where is my Lady _Mirtilla_, Rogues?

Sir _Mer._ And my Mistress, Rascals? For we are resolv’d to shew our selves in Triumph to our Wives and Mistresses.

L. _Youth._ Your Mistress, Sir _Merlin_? mistake not your Mark.

Sir _Mer._ Ha! Art thou there, old Cathedral? Why, thou look’st as magnificiently as old Queen _Bess_ in the _Westminster_-Cupboard.

Sir _Morg._ Lookye as de see, when _Adam_ wore a Beard, she was in her Prime, or so, de see. [Sings.

L. _Youth._ Sir, you are a saucy _Jack_, and your Father shall correct you.

Sir _Mer._ My Father! my Father’s an old Toast, de see; and I hope to see him hang’d.

Sir _Row._ Here’s a Heathen-Christian! see his Father hang’d!

Sir _Mer._ Ay, hang’d, and all the old Fathers in _Christendom_. Why, what a Pox shou’d Fathers trouble the World for? when I come to reign in Parliament, I will enact it Felony, for any Father to have so little Grace to live, that has a Son at Years of Discretion.

Sir _Row._ A damn’d Rogue, I’ll disinherit him immediately.

L. _Blun._ Is it so great a Crime, Brother, for a Gentleman to be drunk?

Sir _Mer._ You lye like a Son of a Whore--I have been drinking Confusion to all the Fathers and Husbands in _England_.

Sir _Morg._ How, Sir, Confusion to Husbands! Look ye, de see, Sir, swallow me that Word, or I’ll make you deposit all the conjugal Wine you have drunk.

Sir _Mer._ I deposit all your Wine! Sirrah, you’re a Blunderbuss.

Sir _Morg._ Sirrah, you are a diminutive Bully.

Sir _Mer._ Sirrah, you’re the Whore of _Babylon_, and I defy you.

Sir _Morg._ Lookye, de see, I scorn to draw upon a drunken Man, or so, I being sober; but I boldly challenge you into the Cellar, where thou shalt drink till thou renounce thy Character, or talk Treason enough to hang thee, and that’s fair and civil.

Sir _Mer._ Agreed; and when I’m drunk enough to ravish, I’ll cuckold my old Dad, and fight him for his Mistress.

Sir _Row._ I have no Patience; I’ll kill the Dog, because I’ll have the
Law on my side--Come on, Sir.
[Draws, the Ladies run out. Sir _Merlin_ draws. _George_ runs in
and parts ‘em.

_Geo._ Villain! Rascal! What, draw upon thy Father!

Sir _Row._ Pray, Sir, who are you? that I may thank you for my Life.

_Geo._ One, Sir, whose Duty ‘twas. [Pulls off his Vizard.

Sir _Row._ What, my dear _George_!--I’ll go and cut off the Intail of my Estate presently, and thou shalt have it all, Boy, thou shalt--

[Exeunt all but _George_.

_Geo._ Fortune is still my Friend: Had but Mirtilla been so! I wonder that she sends not to me: my Love’s impatient, and I cannot wait--while the dull Sot is boozing with his Brother-Fools in the Cellar, I’ll softly to the Chamber of my Love--Perhaps she waits me there-- [Exit.

SCENE II. _A Chamber, and Alcove, discovers _Mirtilla_ and Prince _Frederick_._

_Prince._ Oh! I am ravish’d with excess of Joy.

_Mir._ Enough, my charming Prince! Oh, you have said enough.

_Prince._ Never, my _Mirtilla_!

The Sun that views the World, nor the bright Moon, that favours Lovers Stealths, shall ever see that Hour. Vast, as thy Beauties, are my young Desires; and every new Possession kindles new Flames, soft as thy Eyes, soft as thy tender Touches; and e’er the Pantings of my Heart are laid, new Transports, from new Wishes, dance about it, and still remain in Love’s harmonious Order. [Kisses and embraces her.

Enter _George_, softly.

_Geo._ This House I know, and this should be her Bed-Chamber, because the best; and yet methought I heard another Voice--but I may be mistaken.

_Prince._ I faint with Pleasure of each tender Clasp; I sigh, and languish, gazing on thy Eyes! and die upon thy Lips, with every Kiss.

_Geo._ Surely I know that Voice! Torments, and Hell!--but ‘tis impossible. [Aside.

_Prince._ Oh! satisfy my Doubt, my trembling Doubt! Am I belov’d? Have I about me ought engaging to thee, Charmer of my Soul?

_Geo._ It is the Prince. [Aside.

_Mir._ Ah, Prince! Can you such needless Questions ask, after the Sacrifice which I have made?

_Geo._ Hell take thee for that Falshood. [Draws.

_Mir._ Think not the mighty Present of your Jewels, enough to purchase Provinces, has bought one single Sigh, or Wish: No, my dear Prince, you owe ‘em all to Love, and your own Charms.

_Geo._ Oh, damn’d, dissembling Jilt! [Aside.

_Prince._ No more, no more, my Soul’s opprest with Joy: let me unload it in thy tender Arms, and sigh it out into thy ravishing Bosom.

_Geo._ Death, and Damnation!--

I shall forget his Quality and Virtue, forget he was my Friend, or sav’d this Life; and like a River, swell’d with angry Tides, o’erflow those Banks that made the Stream so gay.

_Mir._ Who’s there?--I heard a Voice--_Manage_?

_Geo._ Yes. [Softly.

_Prince._ Approach, thou Confident of all my Joys; approach, and be rewarded-- [_Prince_ takes his Jewel from his Hat.

_Geo._ Yes, for my excellent Bauding--By Heav’n, I dare not touch his princely Person.

_Prince._ Where art thou? take this Jewel and retire.
[Gropes for his Hand, gives it him.

_Geo._ E’en my Misfortunes have a sort of Luck; but I’ll withdraw, for fear this Devil about me shou’d raise my too rash Hand against his Life. [Exit.

_Prince._ Come, my eternal Pleasure--each Moment of the happy Lover’s Hour, is worth an Age of dull, and common Life.

[Exeunt into the Alcove, the Scene shuts.

SCENE III. A Garden by Night still.

Enter _George_ with his Sword in his Hand, as before.

_Geo._ Why do I vainly call for Vengeance down, and have it in my Hand?--By Heav’n, I’ll back--Whither? To kill a Woman, a young perjur’d Woman!--Oh, ye false Fair Ones! shou’d we do you Justice, a universal Ruin wou’d ensue; not one wou’d live to stock the World anew. Who is’t among ye All, ye Fair Deceivers, ye charming Mischiefs to the noble Race, can swear she’s Innocent, without Damnation? No, no, go on--be false--be fickle still: You act but Nature--But, my faithless Friend--where I repose the secrets of my Soul--except this one--Alas! he knew not this:--Why do I blame him then?

Enter _Olivia_, dress’d as before.

_Oliv._ Fire! Fire! Fire!

_Geo._ _Olivia’s_ Voice!--Ha! what art thou? Thy Voice shou’d be _Olivia’s_, but thy Shape--and yet a Woman is all o’er Disguise.

Enter Lady _Blunder_ in her Night-Gown.

L. _Blun._ Fire! Fire! Fire! My Son, my dear Sir _Morgan._

Enter Sir _Rowland_, and Servants.

Sir _Row._ A Pox on your Son, and mine to boot; they have set all the Sack-Butts a Flaming in the Cellar, thence the Mischief began. _Timothy_, _Roger_, _Jeffrey_, my Money-Trunks, ye Rogues! my money-Trunks!

L. _Blun._ My Son, good _Roger_! my own Sir _Moggy_!

Sir _Row._ The ten thousand Pounds, ye Rascal, in the Iron Trunk, that was to be paid Mr. _Welborn_ for _Olivia’s_ Portion. [Exit.

L. _Blun._ Oh my Son! my Son!--run to the Parson, _Sam_, and let him send the Church-Buckets. Oh, some help! some help!

Enter _Manage_.

_Man._ Oh, Heavens! my Lady _Mirtilla’s_ Chamber’s all on Flame.

Enter _Britton_.

_Geo._ Ha,--the Prince! I had forgot his Danger.

_Man._ Ah! look up, and see how it burns.

_Geo._ _Britton_, a Million for a Ladder!

_Man._ Blessing on you, Sir, if you dare venture through the House; there lies one in the Fore-Garden.

_Britt._ The Passage is on fire, Sir, you cannot go.

_Geo._ Revenge is vanish’d, and Love takes its place: Soft Love, and mightier Friendship seizes all. I’ll save him, though I perish in the Attempt. [Runs out, _Britton_ after him.

Enter at another Door, Sir _Rowland_.

L. _Blun._ A thousand Pound for him that saves Sir _Morgan_!

Sir _Row._ And, do ye hear, let my Rogue lie; I’d rather he should be burnt, than hang’d on _Tyburn_ Road, for murdering his Father.--But where’s Boy _George_?

Enter Men with Trunks.

_Rog._ Safe, Sir, I hope; he was not in the House.

Sir _Row._ So, so, away with these Trunks to my Lady _Youthly’s_ in _Southampton_-Square, and tell her we must trouble her to night. Come, Sister, let’s away.

[Ex. Lady _Blunder_, and Sir _Rowland_.

Prince _Frederick_ and _Mirtilla_, appear at the Window, the
Flame behind ‘em.

_Prince._ Help, help, and save _Mirtilla_! Ask any Price, my Life, my Fortune! All!

_Mir._ Oh, Heav’ns, the Flame pursues us as we fly.

_Prince._ No help! Oh Gods, I shall prevent the Flame, and perish by my Fears to see you die!

_Mir._ Alas! Sir, you with ease may save your Life! This Window you may leap, but I want Courage.

_Prince._ No, my _Mirtilla_, if it be thy Fate, I’ll grasp thee, ev’n in Flames, and die with thee.

_Mir._ We die! we die! the Flame takes hold of us.

Enter _George_ with a Ladder, and puts it to the Window.

_Prince._ Ha! some pitying God takes care of us. Haste, haste, my Charmer; Heav’n has sent us Aid.

[Puts her on the Ladder, she descends into _George’s_ Arms; after
her, the _Prince_. _George_ puts her into _Manage’s_ Arms, she
faints; he runs up to receive the _Prince_.

_Prince._ _Lejere!_ dear Man of Luck--Some happy Star reign’d at thy glorious Birth; every thing is prosperous thou espousest.--How fares my Love, the Treasure of my Soul?

_Man._ Only fainting with the Fright, but she recovers.

_Prince._ My Chair there, quickly, that waits for me.--

Enter Chair; he puts her, and _Manage_ into it.

Enter _Olivia_.

Carry ‘em to Mr. _Welborn’s_, to my Lodgings there, and then return to me; for I am wondrous faint, and cannot walk.

_Oliv._ Ha! by my Life, my Man!

_Prince._ But if I might impose so much, _Lejere_, upon thy Friendship, I beg thou wouldst see her safely carry’d to my Lodgings at _Welborn’s_.

_Geo._ You shall command me, Sir.

[Exeunt Chair, _George_ and _Britton_.

_Oliv._ You seem not well, Sir, pray repose upon my Arm a while.

_Prince._ I thank you, Sir, indeed I am not well.

_Oliv._ Methinks I find a Pleasure but in touching him--Wou’d I cou’d see his Face by all this fatal Light.

Enter _Constable_ and Watch.

_Const._ So, so, the Fire abates, the Engines play’d rarely, and we have Ten Guineas here, Neighbours, to watch about the House; for where there’s Fire, there’s Rogues--Hum, who have we here?--How now, Mr.--Hum, what have you got under your Arm there, ha? Take away this Box of Jewels. [Sir _Morgan_, and Sir _Merlin_, creeping out of the Cellar Window. Ha, who have we here creeping out of the Cellar-Window? more Rogues!

Sir _Mer._ Sirrah! you’re a Baud, Sirrah! and for a Tester will wink at the Vices of the Nation, Sirrah! Call men of the best Quality Rogues! that have stood for Knights of the Shire, and made the Mobile drunk, Sirrah!

_Const._ We cry you Mercy, Sir, we did not know your Worships.

Sir _Morg._ Lookye, de see, here’s a Crown for you; carry us to the next Tavern, and we’ll make thee, and all thy Mirmidons, as drunk as a Boat in a Storm.

_Oliv._ Sir, I find you have Interest with these arbitrary Tyrants of the Parish; pray will you bail me, and this Gentleman?

Sir _Mer._ What, _Endimion_! my Lady _Mirtilla’s_ Page? He lent me Money to Night at the Basset-Table; I’ll be bound Hand and Foot for him, Mr. Constable, and, gad, we’ll all to the Tavern, and drink up the Sun, Boys.

_Oliv._ Yonder Gentleman too has receiv’d some hurt by the Fire, and must go home, Sir; but you must restore him the Box, Mr. Constable.

Sir _Morg._ Ay, ay, lookye, de see, return the Gentleman all; they’re Gentlemen, and our intimate Friends, d’ye see.

[Exeunt _Prince_, and _Olivia_.

Enter a _Servant_.

_Const._ Stand: Who goes there?

Sir _Morg._ _Philip_--Lookye, d’ye see, he shall along with us to the Tavern.

_Serv._ Sir _Morgan_, I came to seek you: your Lady Mother sent me back on purpose; she has spoil’d her Beauty with crying for you.

Sir _Morg._ And wash’d off all her Paint?--Or so, de see! Gad sa’ me, _Philip_, this is ill Luck. Come, let us go drink down Sorrow.

_Serv._ Being sent of such an Errand, as your Safety, Sir, I dare not stay and drink now, before I’ve satisfy’d your Mother.

Sir _Mer._ Not drink! I charge you in the King’s Name, Mr. Constable, bring him along. [The _Constable_ and Watch seize him.

Sings.

_Wise Coxcombs be damn’d, here’s a Health to the Man,
That since Life is but short, lives as long as he can._

[Exeunt.