Part 22

You'd see, perhaps, a venerable Statesman sit fast asleep in a great downy Chair; whilst, in that soft Vacation of his Thought, blind Chance (or what at least we blindly call so) shall so dispose a thousand secret Wheels, that when he awakes, he needs but write his Name, to publish to the World some blest Event, for which his Statue shall be rais'd in Brass.

Perhaps a Moment thence, you shall behold him torturing his Brain; his Thoughts all stretcht upon the Rack for publick Service. The live-long Night, when all the World's at rest, consum'd in Care, and watching for their Safety, then by a Whirlwind in his Fate, in spight of him, some Mischief shall befall 'em, for which a furious Sentence strait shall pass, and they shall vote him to the Scaffold. Even thus uncertain are Rewards and Punishments; and even thus little do the People know, when 'tis the Statesman merits one or t'other.

_Gent._ Now I do believe I am beginning to be a wise Man; for I never till now perceived I was a Fool. But do you then really believe, Sir, our Men in Business do the best they can?

_Esop._ Many of 'em do: Some perhaps do not. But this you may depend upon; he that is out of Business is the worst Judge in the World of him that is in: First, Because he seldom knows any Thing of the Matter: And, Secondly, Because he always desires to get his Place.

_Gent._ And so, Sir, you turn the Tables upon the Plaintiff, and lay the Fool and Knave at his Door.

_Esop._ If I do him wrong, I'm sorry for't. Let him examine himself, he'll find whether I do or not.

[_Exit ~Esop~._

_Gent._----Examine!----I think I have had enough of that already. There's nothing left, that I know of, but to give Sentence: And truly I think, there's no great difficulty in that. A very pretty Fellow I am, indeed! Here am I come bellowing and roaring two hundred Miles Post to find myself an Ass; when, with one Quarter of an Hour's Consideration, I might have made the self-same Discovery, without going over my Threshold. Well! if ever they send me on their Errand to reform the State again, I'll be damn'd. But this I'll do: I'll go home and reform my Family if I can: Them I'm sure I know. There's my Father's a peevish old Coxcomb: There's my Uncle's a drunken old Sot: There's my Brother's a cowardly Bully: Son _Numps_ is a lubberly Whelp: I've a great ramping Daughter, that stares like a Heifer: and a Wife that's a slatternly Sow.

[_Exit._

_Enter a young, gay, airy Beau, who stands smiling contemptibly upon ~Esop~._

_Esop._ Well, Sir, what are you?

_Beau._ A Fool.

_Esop._ That's impossible!----for if thou wert, thou'd'st think thyself a wise Man.

_Beau._ So I do--This is my own Opinion----the t'other's my Neighbour's.

[_Walking airily about._

_Esop. gazing after him._] Have you any Business with me, Sir?

_Beau._ Sir, I have Business with nobody, Pleasure's my Study.

_Esop._ [_Aside._] An odd Fellow this!----Pray, Sir, who are you?

_Beau._ I can't tell----

_Esop._----Do you know who I am?

_Beau._ No, Sir: I'm a Favourite at Court, and I neither know myself, nor any body else.

_Esop._ Are you in any Employment?

_Beau._ Yes.

_Esop._ What is't?

_Beau._ I don't know the Name on't.

_Esop._ You know the Business on't, I hope?

_Beau._ That I do--the Business of it is----to----put in a Deputy and receive the Money.

_Esop._----Pray, what may be your Name?

_Beau._ Empty.

_Esop._ Where do you live?

_Beau._ In the Side-Box.

_Esop._ What do you do there?

_Beau._ I ogle the Ladies.

_Esop._ To what Purpose?

_Beau._ To no Purpose.

_Esop._ Why then do you do it?

_Beau._ Because they like it, and I like it.

_Esop._ Wherein consists the Pleasure?

_Beau._ In playing the Fool.

_Esop._----Pray, Sir, what Age are you?

_Beau._ Five and twenty my Body; my Head's about fifteen.

_Esop._ Is your Father living?

_Beau._ Dead, thank God.

_Esop._ Has he been long so?

_Beau._ Positively, yes.

_Esop._ Where were you brought up?

_Beau._ At School.

_Esop._ What School?

_Beau._ The School of _Venus_.

_Esop._ Were you ever at the University?

_Beau._ Yes.

_Esop._ What Study did you follow there?

_Beau._ My Bed-maker.

_Esop._ How long did you stay?

_Beau._ Till I had lost my Maidenhead.

_Esop._ Why did you come away?

_Beau._ Because I was expell'd.

_Esop._ Where did you go then?

_Beau._ To Court.

_Esop._ Who took Care of your Education there?

_Beau._ A Whore and a Dancing-Master.

_Esop._ What did you gain by them?

_Beau._ A _Minuet_, and the _Pox_.

_Esop._ Have you an Estate?

_Beau._ I had.

_Esop._ What's become on't?

_Beau._ Spent.

_Esop._ In what?

_Beau._ In a Twelvemonth.

_Esop._ But how?

_Beau._ Why, in Dressing, Drinking, Whoring, Claps, Dice, and Scriveners. What do you think of me now, old Gentleman?

_Esop._ Pray, what do you think of yourself?

_Beau._ I don't think at all: I know how to bestow my Time better.

_Esop._ Are you married?

_Beau._ No----have you ever a Daughter to bestow upon me?

_Esop._ She wou'd be well bestow'd.

_Beau._ Why, I'm a strong young Dog, you old Put, you: She may be worse coupled----

_Esop._ Have you then a Mind to a Wife, Sir?

_Beau._ Yaw, _Mynheer_.

_Esop._ What wou'd you do with her?

_Beau._ Why, I'd take Care of her Affairs, rid her of all her Troubles, her Maidenhead, and her Portion.

_Esop._ And, pray, what Sort of Wife wou'd you be willing to throw yourself away upon?

_Beau._ Why, upon one that has Youth, Beauty, Quality, Virtue, Wit and Money.

_Esop._ And how may you be qualified yourself, to back you in your Pretensions to such a one?

_Beau._ Why, I am qualified with----a Perriwig----a Snuff-box--a Feather----a----smooth Face----a Fool's Head----and a Patch.

_Esop._ But one Question more: What Settlements can you make?

_Beau._ Settlements!--Why, if she be a very great Heiress, indeed, I believe I may settle----myself upon her for Life, and my Pox upon her Children for ever.

_Esop._ 'Tis enough; you may expect I'll serve you, if it lies in my Way. But I wou'd not have you rely too much upon your Success, because People sometimes are mistaken----

As for Example----

_An Ape there was of nimble Parts, A great Intruder into Hearts, As brisk, and gay, and full of Air, As you or I, or any here; Rich in his Dress, of splendid Shew, And with an Head like any Beau: Eternal Mirth was in his Face; Where'er he went, He was content, So Fortune had but kindly sent Some Ladies----and a Looking-glass. Encouragement they always gave him, Encouragement to play the Fool; For soon they found it was a Tool Wou'd hardly be so much in Love, But that the mumbling of a Glove, Or tearing of a Fan, wou'd save him. These Bounties he accepts as Proof Of Feats done by his Wit and Youth; He gives their Freedom gone for ever, Concludes each Female Heart undone, Except that very Happy One To which he'd please to do the Favour. In short, so smooth his Matters went, He guess'd, where'er his Thoughts were bent, The Lady he must carry: So put on a fine new Cravat, He comb'd his Wig, he cock'd his Hat, And gave it out he'd marry. But here, alas! he found to 's Cost, He had reckon'd long without his Host: For wheresoe'er he made th' Attack, Poor Pug with Shame was beaten back. The first fair She he had in Chace, Was a young Cat, extremely rich, Her Mother was a noted Witch; So, had the Daughter prov'd but civil, He'd been related to the Devil. But when he came To urge his Flame, She scratch'd him o'er the Face. With that he went among the Bitches, Such as had Beauty, Wit and Riches, And swore Miss Maulkin, to her Cost, Shou'd quickly see what she had lost: But the poor, unlucky Swain Miss'd his Shepherdess again; His Fate was to miscarry. It was his Destiny to find, That Cats and Dogs are of a Mind, When Monkies come to marry._

_Beau._ 'Tis very well;----'tis very well, old Spark; I say, 'tis very well. Because I han't a Pair of plaid Shoes, and a dirty Shirt, you think a Woman won't venture upon me for a Husband----Why, now to shew you, old Father, how little you Philosophers know of the Ladies, I'll tell you an Adventure of a Friend of mine.

_A Band, a Bob-Wig, and a Feather, Attack'd a Lady's Heart together. The Band, in a most learned Plea, Made up of deep Philosophy, Told her, if she wou'd please to wed A Reverend Beard, and take, instead Of vigorous Youth, Old solemn Truth, With Books and Morals into Bed, How happy she wou'd be. The Bob, he talk'd of Management, What wondrous Blessings Heaven sent On Care, and Pains, and Industry; And, truly, he must be so free To own, he thought your airy Beaux, With powder'd Wigs, and dancing Shoes, Were good for nothing (mend his Soul!), But prate, and talk, and play the Fool. He said, 'twas Wealth gave Joy and Mirth; And that to be the dearest Wife Of one, who labour'd all his Life, To make a Mine of Gold his own, And not spend ~Sixpence~ when he'd done, Was Heaven upon Earth. When these two Blades had done, d' ye see, The Feather (as it might be me) Steps out, Sir, from behind the Skreen, With such an Air, and such a Mien, Look you, old Gentleman, in short, He quickly spoil'd the Statesman's Sport. It prov'd such Sunshine Weather, That you must know, at the first Beck The Lady leapt about his Neck, And off they went together._

_To ~Esop~._] There's a Tale for your Tale, old Dad, and so----_Serviteur_.

[_Exeunt._

THE

FALSE FRIEND.

A

COMEDY.

PROLOGUE.

Spoken by Capt. _Griffin_.

_You dread Reformers of an impious Age, } You awful Cat-o'-nine Tails to the Stage, } This once be just, and in our Cause engage. } To gain your Favour, we your Rules obey, } And treat you with a moral Piece to-day; } So moral, we're afraid 'twill damn the Play. } For tho' y' ave long been leagu'd (as People tell) To reduce the Power exorbitant of Hell; No Troops you send, t' abate it in this Field, But leave us still expos'd, to starve or yield. Your Scouts, indeed, sometimes come stealing in, T' observe this formidable Camp of Sin, And whisper, if we'll piously declare, What Aids you then will send, to help us thro' the War. To this we answer, We're a feeble State, } And cannot well afford to love or hate, } So shou'd not meddle much in your Debate. } But, since your Cause is good, thus far we'll go, When ~Portugal~ declares, we'll do so too. Our Cases, as we think, are much alike, And on the same Conditions, we should strike; Send to their Aid a hundred Men of War, To ours, a hundred Squadrons of the Fair; Rig out your Wives and Daughters all around, (I mean, wh' are fit for Service, tight and sound) And, for a Proof our Meaning is sincere, } See but the Ships are good, and if you fear } A Want of Equipage, we'll mann them here. } These are the Terms on which you may engage The Poet's Fire, to batter from the Stage: Useful Ally! whose Friendship lets you in, Upon the weak and naked Side of Sin. Against your old Attack, the Foe's prepar'd, Well fortify'd, and always on his Guard; The sacred Shot you send are flung in vain; } By Impious Hands, with insolent Disdain, } They're gather'd up, and fir'd at you again. } Thro' baffled Toils, and unsuccessful Cares, } In Slaughter, Blood and Wounds, and pious Snares, } Y' ave made a ~Flanders~ War these fifteen hundred Years. } Change then your Scheme, if you'll your Foe annoy, And the infernal ~Bajazet~ destroy; Our Aid accept, W' ave gentler Stratagems which may succeed; We'll tickle 'em where you'd make 'em bleed: In Sounds less harsh, we'll teach 'em to obey; } In softer Strains the evil Spirit lay, } And steal Immorality away._ }

Dramatis Personæ.

MEN.

Don _Felix_, a Gentleman of _Valencia_, Capt. _Griffin_. Don _Pedro_, } { Mr. _Wilks_. Don _Guzman_, } Lovers of _Leonora_, { Mr. _Mills_. Don _John_, } { Mr. _Cibber_. _Lopez_, Servant to Don _John_, Mr. _Pinkethman_. _Galindo_, Servant to Don _Guzman_, Mr. _Bullock_.

WOMEN.

_Leonora_, Daughter to Don _Felix_, Mrs. _Rogers_. _Isabella_, her Friend, and Sister to } _Guzman_, } Mrs. _Kent_. _Jacinta_, Woman to _Leonora_, Mrs. _Oldfield_.

+SCENE+, at _Valencia_.

THE FALSE FRIEND.

+ACT+ I. +SCENE+ I.

+SCENE+, _Don ~John~'s Lodgings._

_Enter Don ~John~ beating ~Lopez~._

_Lop._ Hold, Sir, hold; there's enough in all Conscience; I'm reasonable, I ask no more; I'm content.

Don _John._ Then there's a double Content, you Dog, and a Brace of Contents more into the Bargain. Now is't well?

[_Striking again and again._

_Lop._ O, mighty well, Sir; you'll never mend it; pray leave it as 'tis.

Don _John._ Look you, you Jackanapes, if ever I hear an Offer at your impertinent Advice again----

_Lop._ And why, Sir, will you stifle the most useful of my Qualifications?

Don _John._ Either, Sirrah, I pass for a very great Blockhead with you, or you are pleas'd to reckon much upon my Patience.

_Lop._ Your Patience, Sir, indeed is great: I feel at this Time forty Proofs on't upon my Shoulders: But really, Sir, I wou'd advise you to----

Don _John._ Again! I can bear thee no longer. Here, Pen and Ink, I'll give thee thy Discharge: Did I take you for a Valet, or a Privy-Counsellor, Sir?

_Lop._ 'Tis confess'd, Sir, you took me but for humble Employment; but my Intention was agreeably to surprize you with some superior Gifts of Nature, to your faithful Slave. I profess, my noble Master, a most perfect Knowledge of Men and Manners. Yours, gracious Sir, (with all Respect I speak it) are not irreprehensible. And I'm afraid in Time, Sir, I am indeed, they'll riggle you into some ill-favour'd Affair, whence, with all my Understanding, I shall be puzzled to bring you off.

Don _John._ Very well, Sir.

_Lop._ And therefore, Sir, it is, that I, poor _Lopez_ as I am, sometimes take leave to maralize.

Don _John._ Go, go, moralize in the Market-place: I'm quite worn out. Once more, march.

_Lop._ Is the Sentence definitive?

Don _John._ Positive.

_Lop._ Then, pray, let us come to account, and see what Wages are due.

Don _John._ Wages! Refund what you have had, you Rascal, you, for the plague you have given me.

_Lop._ Nay, if I must lose my Money; then let me claim another Right: Losers have leave to speak. Therefore, advance, my Tongue, and say thy Pleausure; tell this Master of mine, he shou'd die with shame at the Life he leads: So much unworthy of a Man of Honour: Tell him----

Don _John._ I'll hear no more.

_Lop._ You shall indeed, Sir.

Don _John._ Here, take thy Money, and begone.

_Lop._ Counters all; adieu, you glistring Spangles of the World; farewel, ye Tempters of the Great, not me. Tell him----

Don _John._ Stay.

_Lop._ Go on; tell him he's worse among the Women than a Ferret among the Rabbits; at one and all, from the Princess to the Tripe-Woman; handsome, ugly, old Women and Children, all go down.

Don _John._ Very well.

_Lop._ It is, indeed, Sir, and so are the Stories you tell them to bring them to your Matters. The Handsome, she's all Divinity, to be sure; the Ugly, she's so agreeable, were it not for her Virtue, she'd be over-run with Lovers; the light, airy, Flipflap, she kills him with her Motions; the dull, heavy-tail'd Maukin melts him down with her Modesty; the scragged, lean, pale Face has a Shape for Destruction; the fat over-grown Sow has an Air of Importance; the tall aukward Trapes with her Majesty wounds; the little, short Trundle-tail shoots a _Je-ne-sçay-quoy_: In a Word, they have all something for him----and he has something for them all.

Don _John._ And thus, you Fool, by a general Attack, I keep my Heart my own; lie with them that like me, and care not Sixpence for them that don't.

_Lop._ Well said, well said; a very pretty Amusement, truly! But, pray, Sir, by your leave (Ceremony aside) since you are pleas'd to clear up into Conversation, what mighty Matters do you expect from boarding a Woman, you know, is already Heart and Soul engag'd to another?

Don _John._ Why, I expect her Heart and Soul shou'd disengage in a Week. If you live a little longer with me, Sirrah, you'll know how to instruct your next Master to the purpose; and therefore, that I may charitably equip you for a new Service, now I'm turning you out of my own, I'll let you know, that when a Woman loves a Man best, she's in the most hopeful way of betraying him; for Love, like Fortune, turns upon a Wheel, and is very much given to rising and falling.

_Lop._ Like enough: But as much upon the Weathercock as the Ladies are; there are some the Wind must blow hard to fetch them about: When such a sturdy Hussy falls in your Honour's way, what account may Things turn to then, an't please ye?

Don _John._ They turn to a Bottle, you Puppy.

_Lop._ I find they'll always turn to something; but when you pursue a poor Woman, only to make her Lover jealous, what Pleasure can you take in that?

Don _John._ That Pleasure.

_Lop._ Look you there, again.

Don _John._ Why, Sirrah, d'ye think there's no Pleasure in spoiling their Sport, when I can't make my own?

_Lop._ O! to a good-natur'd Man, be sure there must; but, suppose, instead of 'fending and proving with his Mistress, he shou'd come to----a----parrying and thrusting with you; what becomes of your Joy, then, my noble Master?

Don _John._ Why, do you think I'm afraid to fight, you Rascal?

_Lop._ I thought we were talking of what we lov'd, not what we fear'd, Sir.

Don _John._ Sir, I love every Thing that leads to what I love most.

_Lop._ I know, Sir, you have often fought upon these Occasions.

Don _John._ Therefore, that has been no stop to my Pleasures.

_Lop._ But you have never been kill'd once, Sir; and when that happens, you will for ever lose the Pleasure of----

Don _John._ [_Striking him._] Breaking your Head, you Rascal, which will afflict me heartily. See who knocks so hard.

[_Knocking._

_Lop._ Somebody that thinks I can hear no better than you think I can feel.

_Enter Don ~Guzman~._

Don _Guz._ Don _John de Alvarada_, is he here?

_Lop._ There's the Man. Shew me such another, if you can find him.

[_Aside._

Don _Guz._ Don _John_, I desire to speak with you alone.

Don _John._ You may speak before this Fellow, Sir; he's trusty.

Don _Guz._ 'Tis an Affair of Honour, Sir.

Don _John._ Withdraw, _Lopez_.

_Lop._ Behind the Door I will, and no farther. [_Aside._] This Fellow looks as if he came to save me a broken Head.

[_~Lopez~ retires._

Don _Guz._ I call myself _Don Guzman de Torrellas_; you know what Blood I spring from; I am a Cadet, and by consequence, not rich; but I am esteem'd by Men of Honour: I have been forward to expose myself in Battles abroad, and I have met with Applause in our Feasts at home.

_Lop._ So much by way of Introduction.

[_Aside._

Don _John._ I understand your Merit, Sir, and shou'd be glad to do as much by your Business.

Don _Guz._ Give Attention, and you'll be instructed. I love _Leonora_, and from my Youth have done so. Long she rejected my Sighs, and despised my Tears, but my Constancy at last hath vanquish'd. I have found the way to her Heart, and nothing is wanting to compleat my Joy, but the Consent of her Father, whom I cannot yet convince, that the Wants in my Fortune are recompens'd by the Merits of my Person.

_Lop._ He's a very dull Fellow, indeed.

[_Aside._

Don _Guz._ In the mean while, the Object of my Vows is a sharer in my Grief, and the only Cordial we have is the Pleasure of a secret Conversation, thro' a small Breach I have made in a thin Partition that divides our Lodgings. I trust you, Don _John_, with this important Secret; Friend or Enemy, you are noble, therefore keep it; I charge your Honour with it.

_Lop._ You cou'd not put it in better Hands.

[_Aside._

Don _Guz._ But more; my Passion for this Lady is not hid; all _Valencia_ is acquainted with my Wishes, and approves my Choice. You alone, Don _John de Alvarada_, seeming ignorant of my Vows, dare traverse my Amour.

Don _John._ Go on.

_Lop._ These Words import War; lie close, _Lopez_.

[_Aside._

Don _Guz._ You are the _Argus_ of our Street and the Spy of _Leonora_; whether _Diana_ by her borrow'd Light supplies the Absence of the _Astrea_ of Day, or that the Shades of Night cover the Earth with impenetrable Darkness; you still attend till _Aurora_'s Return, under the Balcony of that adorable Beauty.

Don _John._ So?

Don _Guz._ Wherever she moves, you still follow as her Shadow, at Church, at Plays: Be her Business with Heaven or Earth, your Importunity is such, you'll share it.

_Lop._ He is a forward Fellow, that's the Truth on't.

[_Aside._

Don _Guz._ But what's still farther, you take the Liberty to copy me; my Words, my Actions, every Motion is no sooner mine, but your's. In short, you ape me, Don; and to that point, I once design'd to stab myself, and try if you wou'd follow me in that too.

_Lop._ No, there the Monkey wou'd have left you.

[_Aside._

Don _Guz._ But to conclude.

Don _John._ 'Tis Time.

Don _Guz._ My Patience, Don, is now no more; and I pronounce, that if henceforth I find you under _Leonora_'s Window, who never wish'd, fond Man, to see you there; I, by the ways of Honour, shall fix you in another Station. I leave you to consider on't.----Farewel.

[_Exit ~Don~ Guz._

Don _John._ Hold, Sir, we had e'en as good do this honourable Deed now.

_Re-enter ~Lopez~._

_Lop._ No, pray, Sir, let him go, and maybe you mayn't have Occasion to do it at all.

Don _John._ I thought at first the Coxcomb came upon another Subject, which wou'd have embarrassed me much more.

_Lop._ Now this was a Subject wou'd have embarrass'd me enough in all Conscience.

Don _John._ I was afraid he came to forbid me seeing his Sister, _Isabella_, with whom I'm upon very good Terms.

_Lop._ Why, now, that's a hard Case, when you have got a Man's Sister, you can't leave him his Mistress.

Don _John._ No, Changeling, I hate him enough, to love every Woman that belongs to him: and the Fool has so provok'd me by this Threatning, that I believe I shall have a Stroke at his Mother, before I think myself even with him.

_Lop._ A most admirable way to make up Accounts, truly!

Don _John._ A Son of a Whore! s'death, I did not care Sixpence for the Slut before, but now I'll have her Maidenhead in a Week, for fear the Rogue shou'd marry her in ten Days.

_Lop._ Mum; here's her Father: I'll warrant this old Spark comes to correct our Way of living too.

_Enter Don ~Felix~._

Don _Fel._ Don _John!_

Don _John._ Don _Felix!_ do I see you in my poor Dwelling? Pray, to what lucky Accident do I owe this Honour?

Don _Fel._ That I may speak to you without Constraint, pray send away your Servant.

_Lop._ What the Pox have I done to 'em, they are all so uneasy at my Company?

[_Aside._

Don _John._ Give us Chairs, and leave the Room.