Part 15

_Const._ Why, truly, there may be something in that. But have not you a good Opinion enough of your own Parts, to believe you cou'd keep a Wife to yourself?

_Heart._ I shou'd have, if I had a good Opinion enough of her's, to believe she cou'd do as much by me. For to do 'em right, after all, the Wife seldom rambles, till the Husband shews her the way.

_Const._ 'Tis true, a Man of real Worth scarce ever is a Cuckold, but by his own Fault. Women are not naturally lewd; there must be something to urge 'em to it. They'll cuckold a Churl, out of Revenge; a Fool, because they despise him; a Beast, because they loath him. But when they make bold with a Man they once had a well-grounded Value for, 'tis because they first see themselves neglected by him.

_Heart._ Nay, were I well assured that I should never grow Sir _John_, I ne'er shou'd fear _Belinda_, wou'd play my Lady. But our Weakness, thou knowest, my Friend, consists in that very Change we so impudently throw upon (indeed) a steadier and more generous Sex.

_Const._ Why, 'faith, we are a little impudent in that matter, that's the truth on't. But this is wonderful, to see you grown so warm an Advocate for those whom (but t'other Day) you took so much Pains to abuse.

_Heart._ All Revolutions run into Extremes; the Bigot makes the boldest Atheist; and the coyest Saint, the most extravagant Strumpet. But, pr'ythee, advise me in this Good and Evil, this Life and Death, this Blessing and Cursing, that's set before me. Shall I marry, or die a Maid?

_Const._ Why, 'faith, _Heartfree_, Matrimony is like an Army going to engage. Love's the forlorn Hope, which is soon cut off; the Marriage-Knot is the main Body, which may stand buff a long, long time; and Repentance is the Rear-Guard, which rarely gives ground as long as the main Body has a Being.

_Heart._ Conclusion, then; you advise me to whore on, as you do.

_Const._ That's not concluded yet. For tho' Marriage be a Lottery, in which there are a wondrous many Blanks; yet there is one inestimable Lot, in which the only Heaven on Earth is written. Wou'd your kind Fate but guide your Hand to that, tho' I were wrapt in all that Luxury itself could clothe me with, I still shou'd envy you.

_Heart._ And justly, too; for to be capable of loving one, doubtless, is better than to possess a thousand. But how far that Capacity's in me, alas! I know not.

_Const._ But you wou'd know.

_Heart._ I wou'd so.

_Const._ Matrimony will inform you. Come, one Flight of Resolution carries you to the Land of Experience; where, in a very moderate time, you'll know the Capacity of your Soul and your Body both, or I'm mistaken.

[_Exeunt._

+SCENE+, _Sir ~John Brute~'s House_.

_Enter Lady ~Brute~ and ~Belinda~._

_Bel._ Well, Madam, what Answer have you from 'em?

_Lady Brute._ That they'll be here this Moment. I fancy 'twill end in a Wedding: I'm sure he's a Fool if it don't. Ten thousand Pounds, and such a Lass as you are, is no contemptible Offer to a younger Brother. But are not you under strange Agitations? Pr'ythee, how does your Pulse beat?

_Bel._ High and low, I have much ado to be valiant: sure it must feel very strange to go to Bed to a Man?

_Lady Brute._ Um----it does feel a little odd at first; but it will soon grow easy to you.

_Enter ~Constant~ and ~Heartfree~._

_Lady Brute._ Good-morrow, Gentlemen: How have you slept after your Adventure?

_Heart._ Some careful Thoughts, Ladies, on your accounts, have kept us waking.

_Bel._ And some careful Thoughts on your own, I believe, have hindered you from sleeping. Pray how does this matrimonial Project relish with you?

_Heart._ Why, 'faith, e'en as storming Towns does with Soldiers, where the Hope of delicious Plunder banishes the Fear of being knock'd on the Head.

_Bel._ Is it then possible, after all, that you dare think of downright lawful Wedlock?

_Heart._ Madam, you have made me so fool-hardy, I dare do any thing.

_Bel._ Then, Sir, I challenge you; and Matrimony's the Spot where I expect you.

_Heart._ 'Tis enough; I'll not fail. [_Aside._] So, now, I am in for _Hobbes_'s Voyage; a great Leap in the Dark.

_Lady Brute._ Well, Gentlemen, this Matter being concluded then, have you got your Lessons ready? for Sir _John_ is grown such an Atheist of late, he'll believe nothing upon easy Terms.

_Const._ We'll find ways to extend his Faith, Madam. But pray how do you find him this Morning?

_Lady Brute._ Most lamentably morose, chewing the Cud after last Night's Discovery, of which, however, he had but a confus'd Notion e'en now. But I'm afraid the Valet de Chambre has told him all; for they are very busy together at this Moment. When I told him of _Belinda_'s Marriage, I had no other Answer but a Grunt: From which, you may draw what Conclusions you think fit. But to your Notes, Gentlemen, he's here.

_Enter Sir ~John~ and ~Rasor~._

_Const._ Good-morrow, Sir.

_Heart._ Good-morrow, Sir _John_; I'm very sorry my Indiscretion shou'd cause so much Disorder in your Family.

_Sir John._ Disorders generally come from Indiscretion, Sir; 'tis no strange thing at all.

_Lady Brute._ I hope, my Dear, you are satisfied there was no wrong intended you.

_Sir John._ None, my Dove.

_Bel._ If not, I hope my Consent to marry Mr. _Heartfree_ will convince you. For as little as I know of Amours, Sir, I can assure you, one Intrigue is enough to bring four People together, without further Mischief.

_Sir John._ And I know too, that Intrigues tend to Procreation of more kinds than one. One Intrigue will beget another, as soon as beget a Son or a Daughter.

_Const._ I am very sorry, Sir, to see you still seem unsatisfy'd with a Lady, whose more than common Virtue, I am sure were she my Wife, shou'd meet a better Usage.

_Sir John._ Sir, if her Conduct has put a Trick upon her Virtue, her Virtue's the Bubble, but her Husband's the Loser.

_Const._ Sir, you have receiv'd a sufficient Answer already, to justify both her Conduct and mine. You'll pardon me for meddling in your Family-affairs; but I perceive I am the Man you are jealous of, and therefore it concerns me.

_Sir John._ Wou'd it did not concern me, and then I shou'd not care who it concern'd.

_Const._ Well, Sir, if Truth and Reason won't content you, I know but one way more, which, if you think fit, you may take.

_Sir John._ Lord, Sir, you are very hasty! If I had been found at Prayers in your Wife's Closet, I should have allow'd you twice as much time to come to yourself in.

_Const._ Nay, Sir, if Time be all you want, we have no Quarrel.

_Heart._ I told you how the Sword wou'd work upon him.

[_Sir ~John~ muses._

_Const._ Let him muse; however, I'll lay fifty Pound our Foreman brings us in, Not Guilty.

_Sir John._ [_Aside._] 'Tis well----'tis very well----In spite of that young Jade's matrimonial Intrigue, I am a downright stinking Cuckold----Here they are----Boo----[_Putting his hand to his Forehead._] Methinks, I could butt with a Bull. What the Plague did I marry her for? I knew she did not like me; if she had, she wou'd have lain with me; for I wou'd have done so, because I lik'd her; but that's past, and I have her. And now, what shall I do with her?----If I put my Horns into my Pocket, she'll grow insolent----if I don't, that Goat there, that Stallion, is ready to whip me thro' the Guts.--The Debate then is reduced to this: Shall I die a Hero, or live a Rascal?----Why, wiser Men than I have long since concluded, that a living Dog is better than a dead Lion.----[_To ~Const.~ and ~Heart.~_] Gentlemen, now my Wine and my Passion are governable, I must own, I have never observ'd any Thing in my Wife's Course of Life, to back me in my Jealousy of her: But Jealousy's a Mark of Love; so she need not trouble her Head about it, as long as I make no more Words on't.

_Lady ~Fancyfull~ enters disguis'd, and addresses to ~Belinda~ apart._

_Const._ I'm glad to see your Reason rule at last. Give me your Hand: I hope you'll look upon me as you are wont.

_Sir John._ Your humble Servant. [_Aside._] A wheedling Son of a Whore!

_Heart._ And that I may be sure you are Friends with me, too, pray give me your Consent to wed your Niece.

_Sir John._ Sir, you have it with all my Heart: Damn me if you han't. [_Aside._] 'Tis time to get rid of her: A young, pert Pimp; she'll make an incomparable Bawd in a little time.

_Enter a Servant, who gives ~Heartfree~ a Letter._

_Bel._ _Heartfree_ your Husband, say you? 'Tis impossible.

_Lady Fan._ Wou'd to kind Heaven it were! But 'tis too true; and in the World there lives not such a Wretch. I'm young; and either I have been flatter'd by my Friends, as well as Glass, or Nature has been kind and generous to me. I had a Fortune, too, was greater far than he could ever hope for; but with my Heart I am robb'd of all the rest. I am slighted and I'm beggar'd both at once: I have scarce a bare Subsistence from the Villain, yet dare complain to none; for he has sworn if e'er 'tis known I'm his Wife, he'll murder me.

[_Weeping._

_Bel._ The Traitor!

_Lady Fan._ I accidentally was told he courted you: Charity soon prevail'd upon me to prevent your Misery: And, as you see, I'm still so generous even to him, as not to suffer he should do a thing for which the Law might take away his Life.

[_Weeping._

_Bel._ Poor Creature! how I pity her!

[_They continue talking aside._

_Heart._ [_Aside._] Death and Damnation!----Let me read it again. [Reads.] _Tho' I have a particular reason not to let you know who I am till I see you; yet you'll easily believe 'tis a faithful Friend that gives you this Advice. I have lain with ~Belinda (Good!)~--I have a Child by her ~(Better and better!)~ which is now at Nurse; ~(Heaven be prais'd)~ and I think the Foundation laid for another: ~(Ha!--Old Truepenny!)~--No Rack cou'd have tortur'd this Story from me; but Friendship has done it. I heard of your Design to marry her, and cou'd not see you abus'd. Make use of my Advice, but keep my Secret till I ask you for't again. Adieu._

[_Exit Lady ~Fancyfull~._

_Const._ [_To ~Bel~._] Come, Madam, shall we send for the Parson? I doubt here's no Business for the Lawyer: Younger Brothers have nothing to settle but their Hearts, and that I believe my Friend here has already done very faithfully.

_Bel._ [_Scornfully._] Are you sure, Sir, there are no old Mortgages upon it?

_Heart._ [_Coldly._] If you think there are, Madam, it mayn't be amiss to defer the Marriage till you are sure they are paid off.

_Bel._ [_Aside._] How the gall'd Horse kicks!

[_To_ Heart.] We'll defer it as long as you please, Sir.

_Heart._ The more time we take to consider on't, Madam, the less apt we shall be to commit Oversights; therefore, if you please, we will put it off for just nine Months.

_Bel._ Guilty Consciences make Men Cowards; I don't wonder you want time to resolve.

_Heart._ And they make Women desperate; I don't wonder you are so quickly determin'd.

_Bel._ What does the Fellow mean?

_Heart._ What does the Lady mean?

_Sir John._ Zoons, what do you both mean?

[_~Heart.~ and ~Bel.~ walk chasing about._

_Rasor._ [_Aside._] Here is so much Sport going to be spoil'd, it makes me ready to weep again. A Pox o' this impertinent Lady _Fancyfull_, and her Plots, and her _French-woman_ too; she's a whimsical, ill-natur'd Bitch, and when I have got my Bones broke in her Service, 'tis ten to one but my Recompence is a Clap; I hear them tittering without still. I'cod, I'll e'en go lug them both in by the Ears, and discover the Plot, to secure my Pardon.

[_Exit ~Rasor~._

_Const._ Pr'ythee, explain, _Heartfree_.

_Heart._ A fair Deliverance; thank my Stars and my Friend.

_Bel._ 'Tis well it went no farther; a base Fellow!

_Lady Brute._ What can be the meaning of all this?

_Bel._ What's his Meaning, I don't know; but mine is, that if I had married him----I had had no Husband.

_Heart._ And what's her Meaning I don't know; but mine is, that if I had married her--I had had Wife enough.

_Sir John._ Your People of Wit have got such cramp ways of expressing themselves, they seldom comprehend one another. Pox take you both, will you speak that you may be understood!

_Enter ~Rasor~ in Sackcloth, pulling in ~Lady Fancyfull~ and ~Madamoiselle~._

_Rasor._ If they won't, here comes an Interpreter.

_Lady Brute._ Heavens! what have we here?

_Rasor._ A Villain----but a repenting Villain. Stuff which Saints in all Ages have been made of.

_All._ Rasor!

_Lady Brute._ What means this sudden Metamorphose?

_Rasor._ Nothing, without my Pardon.

_Lady Brute._ What Pardon do you want?

_Rasor._ _Imprimis_, Your Ladyship's; for a damnable Lie made upon your spotless Virtue, and set to the Tune of _Spring-Garden_. [_To Sir ~John~._] Next, at my generous Master's Feet I bend, for interrupting his more noble Thoughts with Phantoms of disgraceful Cuckoldom. [_To ~Const~._] Thirdly, I to this Gentleman apply, for making him the Hero of my Romance. [_To ~Heart~._] Fourthly, your Pardon, noble Sir, I ask, for clandestinely marrying you, without either bidding of Banns, Bishop's Licence, Friends Consent----or your own Knowledge. [_To ~Bel~._] And, lastly, to my good young Lady's Clemency I come, for pretending the Corn was sow'd in the Ground, before ever the Plough had been in the Field.

_Sir John._ [_Aside._] So that, after all, 'tis a moot point, whether I am a Cuckold or not.

_Bel._ Well, Sir, upon Condition you confess all, I'll pardon you myself, and try to obtain as much from the rest of the Company. But I must know, then, who 'tis has put you upon all this Mischief?

_Rasor._ Satan, and his Equipage; Woman tempted me, Lust weakened me----and so the Devil over-came me; as fell _Adam_, so fell I.

_Bel._ Then pray, Mr. _Adam_, will you make us acquainted with your _Eve_?

_Rasor._ [_To ~Madam~._] Unmask, for the Honour of _France_.

_All._ Madamoiselle!

_Madam._ Me ask ten tousand Pardon of all de good Company.

_Sir John._ Why, this Mystery thickens, instead of clearing up. [_To ~Rasor~._] You Son of a Whore, you, put us out of our Pain.

_Rasor._ One Moment brings Sunshine. [_Shewing ~Madam~._] 'Tis true, this is the Woman that tempted me, but this is the Serpent that tempted the Woman; and if my Prayers might be heard, her Punishment for so doing shou'd be like the Serpent's of old--[_Pulls off Lady ~Fancyfull~'s Mask._] She should lie upon her Face all the Days of her Life.

_All._ Lady _Fancyfull_!

_Bel._ Impertinent!

_Lady Brute._ Ridiculous!

_All._ Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!

_Bel._ I hope your Ladyship will give me leave to wish you Joy, since you have own'd your Marriage yourself--[_To ~Heart~._] I vow 'twas strangely wicked in you to think of another Wife, when you had one already so charming as her Ladyship.

_All._ Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!

_Lady Fan._ [_Aside._] Confusion seize 'em, as it seizes me!

Madam. _Que le Diable e toute ce Mauraut de ~Rasor~._

_Bel._ Your Ladyship seems disorder'd: A breeding Qualm, perhaps, Mr. _Heartfree_: Your Bottle of Hungary Water to your Lady. Why, Madam, he stands as unconcern'd, as if he were your Husband in earnest.

_Lady Fan._ Your Mirth's as nauseous as yourself. _Belinda_, you think you triumph over a Rival now: _Helas! ma pauvre fille._ Where'er I'm Rival, there's no Cause for Mirth. No, my poor Wretch, 'tis from another Principle I have acted. I knew that Thing there wou'd make so perverse a Husband, and you so impertinent a Wife, that left your mutual Plagues should make you both run mad, I charitably would have broke the Match. He! he! he! he! he!

[_Exit, laughing affectedly, ~Madamoiselle~ following her._

_Madam._ He! he! he! he! he!

_All._ Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!

_Sir John._ [_Aside._] Why, now, this Woman will be married to somebody, too.

_Bel._ Poor Creature! what a Passion she's in! But I forgive her.

_Heart._ Since you have so much Goodness for her, I hope you'll pardon my Offence, too, Madam.

_Bel._ There will be no great Difficulty in that, since I am guilty of an equal Fault.

_Heart._ Then Pardons being past on all sides, pray let's to Church to conclude the Day's Work.

_Const._ But before you go, let me treat you, pray, with a Song a new-married Lady made within this Week; it may be of use to you both.

SONG.

I.

_When yielding first to ~Damon's~ Flame, I sunk into his Arms; He swore he'd ever be the same, Then rifled all my Charms. But fond of what he'd long desir'd, Too greedy of his Prey, My Shepherd's Flame, alas! expir'd Before the Verge of Day._

II.

_My Innocence in Lovers Wars Reproach'd his quick Defeat; Confus'd, asham'd, and bath'd in Tears, I mourn'd his cold Retreat. At length, Ah Shepherdess! cry'd he, Wou'd you my Fire renew, Alas, you must retreat like me, I'm lost if you pursue._

_Heart._ So, Madam; now had the Parson but done his Business----

_Bel._ You'd be half weary of your Bargain.

_Heart._ No, sure, I might dispense with one Night's Lodging.

_Bel._ I'm ready to try, Sir.

_Heart._ Then let's to Church: And if it be our Chance to disagree----

_Bel._ Take heed--the surly Husband's Fate you see.

[_Exeunt omnes._

EPILOGUE,

By Another Hand.

Spoken by Lady =Brute= and =Belinda=.

Lady Brute. _No Epilogue_!

_Belinda._ _I swear I know of none._ } _Lord! How shall we excuse it to the Town?_ }

_Bel._ _Why, we must e'en say something of our own._ }

Lady Brute. _Our own! Ay, that must needs be precious stuff._

_Bel._ _I'll lay my Life, they'll like it well enough. Come, faith, begin----_

Lady Brute. _Excuse me, after you._

_Bel._ _Nay, pardon me for that, I know my Cue._

Lady Brute. _O for the World, I would not have Precedence._

_Bel._ _O Lord!_

Lady Brute. _I swear----_

_Bel._ _O fye!_

Lady Brute. _I'm all Obedience. First then, know all, before our Doom is fixt, The Third Day is for us----_

_Bel._ _Nay, and the Sixth._

Lady Brute. _We speak not from the Poet now, nor is it His Cause--(I want a Rhyme)_

_Bel._ _That we sollicit._

Lady Brute. _Then sure you cannot have the Hearts to be severe And damn us----_

_Bel._ _Damn us! Let 'em if they dare._

Lady Brute. _Why, if they should, what Punishment remains?_

_Bel._ _Eternal Exile from behind our Scenes._

Lady Brute. _But if they're kind, that Sentence we'll recal. We can be grateful----_

_Bel._ _And have wherewithal._

Lady Brute. _But at Grand ~Treaties~ hope not to be trusted, Before ~Preliminaries~ are adjusted._

_Bel._ _You know the Time, and we appoint the Place; Where, if you please, we'll meet and sign the Peace._

Upon the revival of this Play in 1725, Sir _John Vanbrugh_ thought proper to write the two following Scenes, in the room of those printed Page 166,-168, 173, _&c. &c._

+ACT+ IV.

+SCENE+, _Covent-Garden_.

_Enter Lord ~Rake~, Sir ~John~, &c. with Swords drawn._

_Lord Rake._ Is the Dog dead?

_Col. Bully._ No, damn him, I heard him wheeze.

_Lord Rake._ How the Witch his Wife howl'd?

_Col. Bully._ Aye, she'll alarm the Watch presently.

_Lord Rake._ Appear, Knight, then: Come, you have a good Cause to fight for, there's a Man murder'd.

_Sir John._ Is there? Then let his Ghost be satisfy'd: for I'll sacrifice a Constable to it presently, and burn his Body upon his wooden Chair.

_Enter a Taylor, with a Bundle under his Arm._

_Col. Bully._ How now! what have we got here? A Thief?

_Taylor._ No an't please you, I'm no Thief.

_Lord Rake._ That we'll see presently: Here! let the General examine him.

_Sir John._ Ay, ay, let me examine him; and I'll lay a hundred Pound I find him guilty in spite of his Teeth----for he looks--like a----sneaking Rascal. Come, Sirrah, without Equivocation or mental Reservation, tell me of what Opinion you are, and what Calling; for by them----I shall guess at your Morals.

_Taylor._ An't please you, I'm a Dissenting Journeyman Woman's Taylor.

_Sir John._ Then, Sirrah, you love Lying by your Religion, and Theft by your Trade: And so, that your Punishment may be suitable to your Crimes----I'll have you first gagg'd----and then hang'd.

_Tayl._ Pray, good worthy Gentlemen, don't abuse me: Indeed I'm an honest Man, and a good Workman, tho' I say it, that shou'd not say it.

_Sir John._ No Words, Sirrah, but attend your Fate.

_Lord Rake._ Let me see what's in that Bundle.

_Tayl._ An't please you, it's my Lady's short Cloak and Sack.

_Sir John._ What Lady, you Reptile, you?

_Tayl._ My Lady _Brute_, an't please your Honour.

_Sir John._ My Lady _Brute_! my Wife! the Robe of my Wife--with Reverence let me approach it. The dear Angel is always taking Care of me in Danger, and has sent me this Suit of Armour to protect me in this Day of Battle; on they go.

_All._ O brave Knight!

_Lord Rake._ Live _Don Quixote_ the Second!

_Sir John._ _Sancho_, my 'Squire, help me on with my Armour.

_Tayl._ O dear Gentlemen! I shall be quite undone if you take the Sack.

_Sir John._ Retire, Sirrah! and since you carry off your Skin, go home and be happy.

_Tayl._ I think I'd e'en as good follow the Gentleman's Advice, for if I dispute any longer, who knows but the whim may take 'em to case me--These Courtiers are fuller of Tricks than they are of Money: they'll sooner break a Man's Bones, than pay his Bill.

[_Exit ~Tayl~._

_Sir John._ So! how d'ye like my shapes now?

_Lord Rake._ To a Miracle! He looks like a Queen of the _Amazons_--But to your Arms! Gentlemen! The Enemy's upon their March--here's the Watch--

_Sir John._ 'Oons! if it were _Alexander_ the Great, at the Head of his Army, I would drive him into a Horse-Pond.

_All._ Huzza! O brave Knight!

_Enter Watchmen._

_Sir John._ See! Here he comes, with all his _Greeks_ about him--Follow me, Boys.

_Watch._ Hey-dey! Who have we got here?--Stand.

_Sir John._ May-hap not!

_Watch._ What are you all doing here in the Streets at this time o'night? And who are you, Madam, that seem to be at the Head of this noble Crew?

_Sir John._ Sirrah, I am _Bonduca_, Queen of the _Welchmen_; and with a Leek as long as my Pedigree, I will destroy your _Roman_ Legion in an Instant--_Britons_, strike home.

[_They fight off. ~Watch.~ return with Sir ~John~._

_Watch._ So! We have got the Queen, however! We'll make her pay well for her Ransom--Come, Madam, will your Majesty please to walk before the Constable?

_Sir John._ The Constable's a Rascal! And you are a Son of a Whore!

_Watch._ A most noble Reply, truly! If this be her royal Style, I'll warrant her Maids of Honour prattle prettily: But we'll teach you some of our Court Dialect before we part with you, Princess--Away with her to the Round-house.

_Sir John._ Hands off, you Ruffians! My Honour's dearer to me than my Life; I hope you won't be uncivil.

_Watch._ Away with her.

[_Exeunt._

+SCENE+, _A Street_.

_Enter Constable and Watchmen, with Sir ~John~._

_Constab._ Come, forsooth, come along, if you please! I once in Compassion thought to have seen you safe home this Morning: But you have been so rampant and abusive all Night, I shall see what the Justice of Peace will say to you.

_Sir John._ And you shall see what I'll say to the Justice of Peace.

[_~Watchman~ knocks at the Door._

_Enter Servant._

_Constab._ Is Mr. Justice at home?

_Serv._ Yes.

_Constab._ Pray acquaint his Worship we have got an unruly Woman here, and desire to know what he'll please to have done with her.

_Serv._ I'll acquaint my Master.

[_Exit Serv._

_Sir John._ Hark you, Constable, what cuckoldly Justice is this?

_Const._ One that knows how to deal with such Romps as you are, I'll warrant you.

_Enter Justice._

_Just._ Well, Mr. Constable, what is the matter there?