Chapter XXXI: Act V: SCENE I. Welborn’s Chamber

Enter _Welborn_ dressing himself; to him a Footman with a Letter.

_Wel._ Prithee what became of the Spark that lay with me last Night?

_Foot._ I know not, Sir, he ‘rose before day--What Letter’s this, Sir? It lay upon your Toylet. [Gives _Welborn_ a Letter.

_Wel._ _To the dear Man whose Name I would be glad to know_--
[Reads.
Hum--a Woman’s Hand-- [Opens it.

_The Lady you saw last _Thursday_ in the _Mall_, you had in Bed with
you last Night. _Adieu_._

Oh! dull Divinity of Love! that by no Instinct, no sympathizing Pains or Pleasure, could instruct my Sense, how near I was to Happiness!

Enter _George_, fine.

--_Lejere_, behold me here the most unlucky Fellow breathing. Thou know’st I told thee how I was in love with a young Woman in the _Mall_: And this very Night I had this very Woman in my Arms.

_Geo._ Is this your ill Luck, Sir?

_Wel._ ‘Sdeath, all the while I took her for a Man: But finding me asleep, she softly rose; and, by a Light yet burning in my Chamber, she writ this Billet, and left it on my Table. [Gives it _George_, he reads it.

_Geo._ By all that’s good, _Olivia_!--And were you very honest, Sir?

_Wel._ To my eternal Shame, as chaste as Ice.

_Geo._ What will you say now, _Charles_, if I bring this Woman to you again?

_Wel._ Canst thou? Oh, let me kiss thy Lips away.

_Geo._ For all her Frolick, _Charles_, she’s very honest, a Fortune, and of Quality--and were’t not for _Olivia_, thou shouldst marry her.

_Wel._ _Olivia_ I ne’er saw, and now ‘twill be too late.

_Geo._ Nay then, Sir, I must fight in her Defence.

_Wel._ You fight in her defence! Why, dost thou love her?--By all that’s good, I will resign her to thee.

_Geo._ You shall not, Sir; and know she is my Sister.

_Wel._ _Olivia_ thy Sister!--

_Geo._ Ask no more Questions, but defend your self, if you refuse to marry her; for her Honour’s mine.

_Wel._ Were she an Angel, I must love this Woman.

_Geo._ Then thou shall have her--Haste, and get a Licence--no more--trust my Friendship--Go. [Exit _Welborn_.

Enter _Olivia_.

_Olivia_, where did you lie last Night?--Nay do not blush, for you may yet be virtuous.

_Oliv._ Virtuous! Not the young Roses in the bud secur’d, nor breaking Morn ungaz’d at by the Sun, nor falling Snow has more of Purity.

_Geo._ I do believe you; but your dangerous Frolicks will make the World talk shamefully.

_Oliv._ Let him talk on, I will not humour Fools.

_Geo._ No more--here’s _Manage_--Contrive an Assignation with _Mirtilla_; but do not hide again where none may find you. This done, I’ll tell you more, and make you happy. How now, _Manage_, is the Prince stirring?

_Man._ He’s in his Dressing-Room, Sir.--This from my Lady, Sir.
[Slides the Letter into _Olivia’s_ Hand as she passes out.

_Geo._ What have you there, Olivia? [Takes the Billet.

_Oliv._ An Assignation from your perjur’d Mistress, Sir.

_Geo._ ‘Tis well--you must obey the Summons; and wind her up to all the height of Love; then let her loose to Shame. I’ll bring her Lover in the height of Dalliance, who, when he sees her Perfidy, will hate her.

_Oliv._ And then the lovely Man stands fair for me. [Aside.

_Geo._ Go write an Answer back--and wait her hour.

[Exeunt severally.

SCENE II. _The Dressing-Room. Discovers the _Prince_ at his Toylet, dressing. Musick and a Song._

Enter _George_, waits till the Song is ended. The _Prince_ sees
him, comes to him with Joy, and falls about his Neck.

SONG, by Mr. _Gildon_.

I.

_Ah _Charmion!_ shroud those killing Eyes,
That dart th’ extremes of Pleasure,
Else _Celidon_, though favour’d, dies
As well as him that you despise,
Though with this diff’rent measure:
While lingring Pains drag on his Fate, }
Dispatch is all th’ Advantage of my State; }
For ah! you hill with Love, as well as Hate._ }

II.

_Abate thy Luxury of Charms,
And only Part discover;
Your Tongue, as well as Eyes, has Arms
To give a Thousand fatal Harms
To the poor listening Lover:
Thy Beams, like Glorys veil’d shou’d be,
And like the Front of Heav’n, unseen, pass by;
For to behold ‘em, in full force, we die._

_Prince._ _Mirtilla_, O! I faint, I die with thy Beauty’s Luxury! by Heaven, I’m all Rapture, Love, and Joy: Such a dear Night, _Lejere_!--Poets may fancy pressing Goddesses, on downy Beds of Clouds--But oh, _Lejere_!--Those Gods were never half so blest as I!

_Geo._ What pity ‘twere to wake you from this Dream.

_Prince._ It is not in the power of Time nor Age: For even then _Mirtilla_ will have Charms! Oh, how she speaks! how well she’ll grace a Story!

_Geo._ How gay her Wit! how movingly she writes!

_Prince._ I do believe she does. [A little seriously.

_Geo._ Would it displease you, should you see a Billet from her?

_Prince._ That’s as it were directed. [Gravely.

_Geo._ You would not credit what you saw last Night.

_Prince._ Nor wou’d have lost that Night for all the Treasure the vast Ocean hides.

_Geo._ I wou’d not have a Man, so good and great, be made a Woman’s Property--There, Sir. [Gives him the Billet.

_Prince._ I’ll not believe it her’s; there are a thousand ways to ruin Innocence; if she be false--she’s damn’d. Confirm me, and of course I shall despise her. You cure me, when you shew her worth my Scorn.

_Geo._ Will you be rul’d then, and believe it Friendship in me?

_Prince._ I will.

_Geo._ Give her, by Absence, but an Opportunity; feign some Excuse to leave the Town to day.

_Prince._ See where she comes--

Enter _Mirtilla_.

Adorn’d with all the beauteous Wonders of her Sex. The Gods of Love are playing in her Eyes, and give us Wounds from ev’ry graceful Motion. Ah, my _Mirtilla_! how shall I support the Absence of a many coming Hours, that languish, being from thee but a Moment?

_Mir._ I hope, my Lord, Fate is not so unkind, to let me live without you many Hours.

_Prince._ Can all this be dissembl’d? [Aside to _George_.

_Geo._ How much more have I heard? yet all was false.

_Prince._ I must this Day--this tedious live-long Day, be absent from thy Sight--but shall be back i’th’ Evening: I’ll leave _Lejere_ to wait on your Commands.

_Mir._ _Lejere_ shall ever, Sir, be dear to me--But I’ll retire, and sigh till your Return--that World affords no Pleasure where you are not.

_Prince._ Do you hear that, Sir? [Aside to _George_.
Till Night, thou dearest Blessing of my Life--Adieu.
[_Mirtilla_ going out, pulls _Lejere_ by the Sleeve.

_Mir._ Thou little, mischievous informing Thing, how vainly hast thou lavish’d out Invention! [Smiling. [Exit.

_Prince._ By Heaven, methinks ‘twere Sin but to suspect her.

_Geo._ Think so; I’ll trouble your Repose no more: I’ve done my Duty, and I wou’d not see you made a--

_Prince._ Property--Ha--A loath’d convenient Tool--A Woman’s Implement--’Sdeath! she that off--Loose to the nasty Love of every Fool, that will be flatter’d, cozen’d, jilted, cuckolded--No more--I will, unseen, convey my self into the Closet in my Dressing-Room; ‘tis near her Bed--and if I find her wanton--

_Geo._ If you find her--the Youth is waiting now that shall convince you.

_Prince._ Where?--Oh, set the happy Slave but in my View, and--

_Geo._ No, faith, Sir, be convinc’d before you strike, for fear she jilt you out of Sense and Reason--

_Prince._ Come to my Closet, from thence we may observe all that passes in her Chamber; from whence I’ll break upon the perjur’d Fair, like Thunder from a Cloud, and more destructive.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III. A Chamber. Draws and discovers _Mirtilla_ and _Manage_.

_Mir._ Is the Prince gone?

_Man._ Yes, Madam.

_Mir._ Then bring _Endimion_ to me.

_Man._ Madam, I wish you’d think no more of him; for I foresee, that this Amour must ruin you. Remember you have left a Husband for the Prince.

_Mir._ A Husband! my Drudge, to toil for me, and save me the Expence of careful Thoughts: My Cloke, my Led-Horse, for Necessity to fill my Train--no more--but _Endimion_ waits. [Exit _Manage_. --There is a native Generosity in me, that checks my Inconstancy to this great Man; yet I have so much Woman in my Soul, cannot pain my self to do him Justice--A new desire of humouring my wish, sways all my Interest, and controuls all my Honour. Why should I lose a Pleasure for a Promise? since Time, that gives our Youth so short a Date, may well excuse our needful Perjury.

Enter _Manage_, and _Olivia_, she runs and embraces him.

--Let the young bashful Maid, unskill’d in Love, deny the pressing Swain.

Let wither’d Age, who fondly dreams of Virtue, lose the dear Opportunities of Life.

The coming Hours present themselves to us; and are too nice, not to be snatch’d when offer’d.

_Oliv._ So hasty! this disarms me of Excuse. [Aside.

_Mir._ Why are thy Eyes bent down? Why dost thou pause?

_Oliv._ So hot!--I must prepare to shew my Sex’s Evidence, if nothing else will do. [Unbuttons her Coat.

_Mir._ What, not a Word!

Advance, thou bashful Youth--Love in thy Eyes, and Coward in thy Heart! The one all Fire, the other too much Ice.

_Prince_ and _George_ looking out.

_Prince._ Yet stay me, my _Lejere_, from my hasty Vengeance.

_Oliv._ Ah, Madam, how are you mistaken! ‘Tis not Coldness in me--but--

_Mir._ What, Bashfulness!
Oh, Love will lend thee Courage;
This Trembling is the soft Effects of it.

_Oliv._ Oh, how vilely she’s mistaken!

_Mir._ Come to my Bed, and press the Roses down; and lend more sweetness
to ‘em than they bring.
[She leading him to her Bed, the _Prince_ enters, with _Lejere_,
holding his Sword in Hand; he takes hold of _Olivia_.

_Prince._ Love--thus I fling thy gaudy Fetters off, and am no more a
Slave to faithless Beauty.
[The _Prince_ holding _Olivia_ by the Bosom of her Coat, her
Breast appears to _Mirtilla_.

_Mir._ Ha! what do I see?--Two Female rising Breasts. By Heav’n,
a Woman.--Oh fortunate Mischance!
[This while _George_ is arguing with the _Prince_ not to hurt
_Olivia_.

_Prince._ No, I will not hurt thee, cease thy trembling.

_Mir._ Oh, Sir, ‘twere Sin to hurt the lovely Youth.

_Prince._ No, Madam, since I have taken back my Heart, I can present you with another Lover. [Gives _Olivia_ to her.

_Mir._ Ha! another Lover!--What means my Prince?

_Prince._ Eternally to leave you to your Frailty.

_Mir._ Can you so easily cancel all your Vows? Then kill me at your Feet, I do implore it. [Kneels and weeps.

_Prince._ Away, I do forgive thee, wretched Woman.--But yet be gone--lest Love and Rage return, and I should kill you yet with your young Darling.

_Mir._ Whom mean you, Sir, this lovely Maid?

_Oliv._ Maid!--What means she? Sure she cannot know me.

_Prince._ Talk on, false Woman! till thou hast persuaded my Eyes and Ears out of their native Faculties, I scorn to credit other Evidences.

_Mir._ Try ‘em once more, and then repent, and die.
[Opens _Olivia’s_ Bosom, shews her Breasts.

_Prince._ Ha--By Heav’n, a Woman!

_Mir._ You that wou’d smile at my suppos’d undoing, present yourself no
more before my Eyes.
‘Twas to perplex you that I feign’d this Passion.
I saw you had your Spies to watch for Mischief, [To _George_.
And poison all my Happiness with the Prince.--

And since I am thought so criminal, I’ll take an everlasting leave of
you.
[To the _Prince_.
When I am dead, may she you honour next repay your Tenderness as I
have done--But may she never meet my wretched Fate.
[She snatches _Olivia’s_ Sword out.

_Prince._ Hold, thou most valu’d Treasure of the World, or turn the pointed Weapon to my Heart.

_Mir._ No, I’m false, unworthy of your Love.

_Geo._ Yes, by Heaven. But thou hast jilted him so handsomly, thou’st vanquish’d all my Rage.

_Mir._ Yes, I am false; false to this Gallant Man,-- [To _George_. false to my Husband, to my Sex’s Fame; for you more charming, I alas am perjur’d.

_Prince._ _Lejere_, have I then injur’d thee?

_Geo._ This is the fatal Beauty, Sir, for whom so often you have seen me languish.

_Prince._ Ah! wouldst thou see me on a Precipice, and not prevent my Danger?

_Geo._ To mightier Friendship I cou’d all surrender, and silently have born her Perjuries; but those to you, awaken’d all my Rage: but she has out-trick’d me, and I beg her Pardon--And to secure her yours, have lov’d anew, and beg Protection in your Lodgings, Sir, for a young Maid whom I design to marry.

_Prince._ Command my Life, my Fortune, and my Sword, for the unwilling Injury I have done thee--And is this the charming, perjur’d Fair, _Mirtilla_?

_Geo._ It is, Sir.

_Prince._ Since it is possible that you cou’d cease to love this Gallant Man, whom I have heard with so much tender Passion tell your Loves, what sacred Vows had past, and what Endearments, how can I hope from thee a lasting Faith?--Yet on the Oaths that thou hast sworn to me--by all thy Hopes of Pardon for thy Perjuries, to ease my panting Heart--once speak the Truth--Didst thou not take this Woman for a Man?

_Mir._ I did--and were she so, I wou’d with Pride own all the Vows I’ve broke.

_Prince._ Why, this is fair--and though I buy this Knowledge at the vast Price of all my Repose; yet I must own, ‘tis a better Bargain than chaff’ring of a Heart for feign’d Embraces--Thou hast undone me--yet must have my Friendship; and ‘twill be still some Ease in this Extreme, to see thee yet repent, and love _Lejere_.

_Mir._ No, Sir, this Beauty must be first declining, to make me take up with a former Lover.

_Geo._ No, Sir, I have dispos’d my Heart another way; and the first knowledge of her Falshood cur’d me: Her Marriage I forgave--that thing of Form--but never could her Fondness to this Youth.

_Prince._ Who’s this Lady, Sir, whose Pardon I must beg?

_Geo._ My Sister, Sir, who I disguis’d on purpose to be a Guard to this suspected Fair One.

Enter _Welborn_.

_Wel._ Ha, she’s there!

Now every Feature points me out my Conqueress.--Nay, start not--I have found Thee, thou malicious Charmer, to bring me so near to Bliss, and not afford me one kind hint.

_Oliv._ And are not you a very dull Fellow, that lov’d and long’d, and had the Maid so near you, and yet needed a Hint?

_Wel._ Nay, if you conceal’d your precious Talent, how shou’d it profit any body?

_Oliv._ Conceal’d it!--No, Faith, I made a very fair Tender; but you refus’d it, as not being current Coin.

_Wel._ But if you most feloniously, and unlawfully deface our Sovereign’s Image, so as it may be as soon taken for the Grand Signior’s, I may suspect the Metal too.

_Oliv._ What say you if I tender it before these lawful Witnesses?

_Wel._ I’ll take it for good Payment--I _Charles Welborn_--

_Oliv._ Ha, _Welborn_! [Aside.

_Wel._ Take thee--whom?--Gad, if the Parson of the Parish knew your Name no better than I--’twill be but a blind Bargain.

_Geo._ _Olivia Marteen_--

_Wel._ My destin’d Wife!

_Geo._ The very same: Have you the Parson ready?

_Wel._ He waits in my Chamber.

_Oliv._ Madam, I beg you’ll lend me something more becoming my Sex.

_Mir._ _Manage_ will furnish you from my Wardrobe.
[Exit _Olivia_ with _Manage_.

Enter _Teresia_.

_Geo._ And see my good Genius appears too.

_Ter._ See, Sir, I am resolv’d to be welcome to your Arms; look, here are the Writings of the Estate my Grandfather left me, and here’s three thousand Pound my Grandmother has settled on me, upon her Marriage with you. [Gives him the Writings.

_Geo._ And here’s my Father’s Estate settled on me--Come, let’s put them together--and go in, and let the Parson do as much for us. [Puts ‘em in her Case.

_Ter._ But have you very well considered this Matter?

_Geo._ Teresia, we’ll do like most Couples, marry first, and consider afterwards-- [Leads her in.

Enter a Footman.

_Foot._ Sir, here’s Sir _Merlin_, with a Lady mask’d, wou’d speak with you.

_Wel._ Carry ‘em into the Dining-Room, I’ll wait on ‘em anon.

[Exeunt _Omnes_.

SCENE IV. _My Lady _Youthly’s_; Discovers her, and _Lettice_ dressing her._

L. _Youth._ Hold the Glass higher, _Lettice_; is not this Tour too brown?--Methinks it does not give a youthful Aire to my Face.

_Lett._ That’s not in Nature.

L. _Youth._ Like Nature! Ay, but Nature’s self wants Art, nor does this Fontange suit with my Complexion--put on a little more red, _Lettice_, on my Cheeks, and Lips. [She does so.

_Lett._ Ay, for they are but a little too much upon the _Coventry_-Blue--This Tour must come more forward, Madam, to hide the Wrinkles at the corners of your Eyes-- [Pulls it.

L. _Youth._ Ay, _Lettice_, but there are others, that neither Tours, nor Paint, nor Patches will hide, I fear--yet altogether, _Lettice_-- [Puts on her Spectacles, and looks in the Glass.

Enter _Sir Rowland_.

Sir _Row._ What, no Bride yet, nor Bridegroom?

L. _Youth._ Ay, what can be the meaning of this?

Sir _Row._ But _Teresia_, Madam, where can she be gadding?

L. _Youth._ Why, _Lettice_ tells me, she went to buy some Trifles to adorn her this Night--Her Governante is with her, and my Steward.

Enter Mr. _Twang_.

_Twang._ Alas, what pity ‘tis; the Supper is quite spoil’d, and no Bridegroom come!

_A Noise of hallowing without, and Musick._

Enter Lady _Blunder_.

L. _Blun._ Bless us! Here’s a whole Regiment of Liveries, Coaches, and Flambeaux at the Door! the Fops of the Town have heard of a Wedding, and are come in Masquerade.

Enter Musick playing; after them, Prince _Frederick_, leading
_Mirtilla_, _George_ leading _Teresia_; Sir _Merlin_, _Diana_;
Mrs. _Manage_, _Britton_; Pages, and Footmen, all in Masquerade.
Sir _Morgan_ comes in, all in Mourning; _Welborn_, and _Olivia_.

Sir _Mer._ Hearing of a high Wedding, Sir, we made bold (as the saying is) to give you Joy. Sir, are not you the Bridegroom?

_Ter._ Where’s your Bride, Sir? Ha! ha! ha!

Sir _Mer._ Ay, ay, where’s your Bride?

Sir _Row._ What’s that to you, _Sir_ Coxcomb?

Sir _Mer._ Hum--how the devil came he to know me now?--Is this reverend Gentlewoman your Lady, Sir?

Sir _Row._ Ounds, they come to mock us!--Hark ye, hark ye, Tawdrums, if you are Men, shew your Faces; if Apes, play over your Monkey-Tricks and be gone, d’ye hear.--We are not at leisure for Fooling.

_Geo._ Be but at leisure, Sir, to pardon [_George_ kneels.
this one Disobedience of my Life, and all the rest I’ll dedicate to
please and humour you. Sir, I am marry’d.
[Pulls off his Mask.

Sir _Row._ What the Devil’s that to me, Sir?

_Geo._ Do not you know me, Sir?

Sir _Row._ No, Sir, nor don’t care to know any such flaunting Coxcombs.

_Geo._ Look on me, Sir.
[Looks on him, knows him, goes away, and returns.

Sir _Row._ Hum, hum, hum--

_Ter._ It is your Son, Sir, your darling Son, who has sav’d your Life from Insolence.

Sir _Row._ Hum--_Teresia_!

L. _Youth._ How, _Teresia_! what, robb’d me of my intended Husband? Oh, undone! undone! [Falls into a Chair.

Sir _Row._ And hast thou, after all, served me such a Rogue’s Trick, thou ungracious Varlet? What, cuckold thine own Father!

_Geo._ Oh, do not frown, I cannot bear your Anger! Here will I hang for ever till you Pardon me. [Clasps his Knees.

Sir _Row._ Look--look--now cannot I be angry with the good-natur’d young
Rogue.
[Weeps.
Well, _George_--But hark ye, Sirrah, this is a damn’d Trick of yours.

_Geo._ Sir, I found my Youth was fitter for her than your Age, and you’ll be as fond of a Grand-Child of my begetting as you would of a Son of another Man’s perhaps.

Sir _Row._ Thou’rt in the Right on’t.

Sir _Mer._ Ha! Is Monsieur _Lejere_ then my Brother _George_?

_Geo._ Sir, Here’s another Couple wants your Pardon; my Brother _Merlin_, and my Lady _Diana_.

L. _Blun._ _Diana_! What, Sir _Harry Modish’s_ Mistress?

_Dia._ Yes, he pawn’d me at the _Basset-Table_; and, in Revenge, I resolv’d to marry the next Man of Fortune I met with.

Sir _Row._ The Fool had more Wit than I thought he had; for which I’ll give him a Thousand Pound a Year.

_Geo._ I humbly thank you, Sir.

_Mir._ Pray, Melancholy Sir, who are you in Mourning for?

Sir _Morg._ Alas, Madam, for a Person of Quality that was my Wife; but
rest her Soul, she’s burnt.
[Weeps.
And I shall never see any thing again like her.

_Mir._ No! What think you of this Face, Sir?

Sir _Morg._ As Gad shall sa’ me, as like as if the same.

L. _Blun._ In troth, and so she is.

_Prince._ ‘Tis true, she was once your Wife; but I have preserv’d her from the Flames, and I have most Right to her.

Sir _Morg._ That’s a hard Case, Sir, that a Man must lose his Wife, because another has more Right to her than himself; Is that Law, Sir?

_Prince._ Lover’s Law, Sir.

L. _Blun._ Ay, ay, Son, ‘tis the Fashion to marry one Week, and separate
the next. I’ll set you a President for it my self.
[In this time _Welborn_ kneels with _Olivia_; _Sir Rowland_ takes
‘em up, and kisses ‘em.

Sir _Morg._ Nay, if it be the Fashion, I’ll e’en into the Country, and be merry with my Tenants, and Hawk, and Hunt, and Horse-match.

_Prince._ But now, Sir, I’ll resign my Right to you, and content myself with the Honour to have preserv’d her from the Fire. [_Prince_ delivers _Mirtilla_ to Sir _Morgan_, who receives her.

Sir _Morg._ As gad shall sa’ me, Sir, you’re a civil Person; and now I find you can endure a Woman, Sir, I’ll give you leave to visit her.

Sir _Row._ Well, since we’re all agreed, and that the Fiddles are here, adsnigs, we’ll have a Dance, Sweet-heart, though thou hast out-witted me. [Takes _Teresia_, _George_ takes Lady _Youthly_, &c. After the Dance, Lady _Youthly_ weeps.

_Geo._ What, weeping yet? Here, Mr. _Twang_, take the Lady to your Care; in these Cases, there’s nothing like the Consolation of your young Chaplain.

The Widow, with young Jointure, and old Face,
Affected Mein, and Amorous Grimace,
Uses to fall to th’ younger Brother’s share; }
But I by Fortune, and Industrious Care, }
Have got one that’s Rich, Witty, Young, and Fair. }

_FINIS._