Part 4

_Aman._ But pr'ythee, _Berinthia_, instruct me a little farther; for I am so great a Novice, I'm almost asham'd on't. My Husband's leaving me whilst I was young and fond, threw me into that Depth of Discontent, that ever since I have led so private and recluse a Life, my Ignorance is scarce conceivable. I therefore fain would be instructed: Not, Heaven knows, that what you call Intrigues have any Charms for me: my Love and Principles are too well fix'd. The practick Part of all unlawful Love is----

_Ber._ O 'tis abominable: But for the Speculative--that we must all confess is entertaining. The Conversation of all the virtuous Women in the Town turns upon that and new Clothes.

_Aman._ Pray be so just then to me, to believe, 'tis with a World of Innocency I wou'd enquire, Whether you think those Women we call Women of Reputation, do really 'scape all other Men, as they do those Shadows of 'em, the Beaux.

_Ber._ O no, _Amanda_; there are a sort of Men make dreadful Work amongst 'em: Men that may be call'd The Beaux Antipathy; for they agree in nothing but walking upon two Legs.

These have Brains: The Beau has none. These are in Love with their Mistress: The Beau with himself. They take care of her Reputation: He's industrious to destroy it. They are decent: He's a Fop. They are sound: He's rotten. They are Men: He's an Ass.

_Aman._ If this be their Character, I fancy we had here e'en now a Pattern of 'em both.

_Ber._ His Lordship and Mr. _Worthy_?

_Aman._ The same.

_Ber._ As for the Lord, he's eminently so; And for the other, I can assure you, there's not a Man in Town who has a better Interest with the Women, that are worth having an Interest with. But 'tis all private: He's like a Back-stair Minister at Court, who, whilst the reputed Favourites are sauntering in the Bed-chamber, is ruling the Roast in the Closet.

_Aman._ He answers then the Opinion I had ever of him. Heavens! What a difference there is between a Man like him, and that vain nauseous Fop, Sir _Novelty_! [_Taking her Hand._] I must acquaint you with a Secret, Cousin. 'Tis not that Fool alone has talked to me of Love, _Worthy_ has been tampering too: 'Tis true, he has done it in vain: Not all his Charms or Art have power to shake me. My Love, my Duty, and my Virtue, are such faithful Guards, I need not fear my Heart shou'd e'er betray me. But what I wonder at is this: I find I did not start at his Proposal, as when it came from one whom I contemn'd. I therefore mention this Attempt, that I may learn from you whence it proceeds, that Vice, which cannot change its Nature, shou'd so far change at least its Shape, as that the self-same Crime propos'd from one shall seem a Monster gaping at your Ruin, when from another it shall look so kind, as tho' it were your Friend, and never meant to harm you. Whence think you, can this Difference proceed? For 'tis not Love, Heaven knows.

_Ber._ O no; I wou'd not for the World believe it were. But possibly, shou'd there a dreadful Sentence pass upon you, to undergo the Rage of both their Passions; the Pain you apprehend from one might seem so trivial to the other, the Danger wou'd not quite so much alarm you.

_Aman._ Fy, fy, _Berinthia_! you wou'd indeed alarm me, cou'd you incline me to a Thought, that all the Merit of Mankind combin'd, cou'd shake that tender Love I bear my Husband: No, he sits triumphant in my Heart, and nothing can dethrone him.

_Ber._ But shou'd he abdicate again, do you think you shou'd preserve the vacant Throne ten tedious Winters more, in hopes of his return?

_Aman._ Indeed I think I shou'd. Tho' I confess, after those Obligations he has to me, shou'd he abandon me once more, my Heart wou'd grow extremely urgent with me to root him thence, and cast him out for ever.

_Ber._ Were I that thing they call a slighted Wife, some Body shou'd run the risque of being that thing they call--a Husband.

_Aman._ O fy, _Berinthia_! No Revenge shou'd ever be taken against a Husband: But to wrong his Bed is a Vengeance, which of all Vengeance----

_Ber._ Is the sweetest--ha, ha, ha! Don't I talk madly?

_Aman._ Madly indeed.

_Ber._ Yet I'm very innocent.

_Aman._ That I dare swear you are. I know how to make Allowances for your Humour: You were always very entertaining Company; but I find since Marriage and Widowhood have shewn you the World a little, you are very much improv'd.

_Ber._ [_Aside._] Alack a-day, there has gone more than that to improve me, if she knew all.

_Aman._ For Heaven's sake, _Berinthia_, tell me what way I shall take to persuade you to come and live with me?

_Ber._ Why, one way in the World there is----and but one.

_Aman._ Pray which is that?

_Ber._ It is to assure me--I shall be very welcome.

_Aman._ If that be all, you shall e'en lie here to-night.

_Ber._ To-night?

_Aman._ Yes, to-night.

_Ber._ Why, the People where I lodge will think me mad.

_Aman._ Let 'em think what they please.

_Ber._ Say you so, _Amanda_? Why then they shall think what they please: For I'm a young Widow, and I care not what any body thinks. Ah, _Amanda_, it's a delicious thing to be a young Widow.

_Aman._ You'll hardly make me think so.

_Ber._ Phu, because you are in love with your Husband: but that is not every Woman's Case.

_Aman._ I hope 'twas yours, at least.

_Ber._ Mine, say ye? Now I have a great mind to tell you a Lye, but I shou'd do it so aukwardly, you'd find me out.

_Aman._ Then e'en speak the Truth.

_Ber._ Shall I?----Then after all, I did love him, _Amanda_----as a Nun does Penance. _Aman._ Why did not you refuse to marry him, then?

_Ber._ Because my Mother wou'd have whipt me.

_Aman._ How did you live together?

_Ber._ Like Man and Wife--asunder;

He lov'd the Country, I the Town. He Hawks and Hounds, I Coaches and Equipage. He Eating and Drinking, I Carding and Playing. He the Sound of a Horn, I the Squeak of a Fiddle. We were dull Company at Table, worse a-bed. Whenever we met, we gave one another the Spleen. And never agreed but once, which was about lying alone.

_Aman._ But tell me one thing truly and sincerely.

_Ber._ What's that?

_Aman._ Notwithstanding all these Jars, did not his Death at last extremely trouble you?

_Ber._ O yes: Not that my present Pangs were so very violent, but the After-pains were intolerable. I was forc'd to wear a beastly Widow's Band a Twelvemonth for't.

_Aman._ Women, I find, have different Inclinations.

_Ber._ Women, I find, keep different Company. When your Husband ran away from you, if you had fallen into some of my Acquaintance, 'twou'd have sav'd you many a Tear. But you go and live with a Grandmother, a Bishop, and an old Nurse, which was enough to make any Woman break her Heart for her Husband. Pray, _Amanda_, if ever you are a Widow again, keep yourself so as I do.

_Aman._ Why, do you then resolve you'll never marry?

_Ber._ O, no; I resolve I will.

_Aman._ How so?

_Ber._ That I never may.

_Aman._ You banter me.

_Ber._ Indeed I don't. But I consider I'm a Woman, and form my Resolutions accordingly.

_Aman._ Well, my Opinion is, form what Resolution you will, Matrimony will be the end on't.

_Ber._ Faith it won't.

_Aman._ How do you know?

_Ber._ I'm sure on't.

_Aman._ Why, do you think 'tis impossible for you to fall in love?

_Ber._ No.

_Aman._ Nay, but to grow so passionately fond, that nothing but the Man you love can give you rest?

_Ber._ Well, what then?

_Aman._ Why, then you'll marry him.

_Ber._ How do you know that?

_Aman._ Why, what can you do else?

_Ber._ Nothing--but sit and cry.

_Aman._ Psha.

_Ber._ Ah, poor _Amanda_, you have led a Country Life: But if you'll consult the Widows of this Town, they'll tell you, you shou'd never take a Lease of a House you can hire for a Quarter's Warning.

[_Exeunt._

+ACT+ III.

_Enter Lord ~Foppington~ and Servant._

_Lord Fop._ Hey, Fellow, let the Coach come to the Door.

_Serv._ Will your Lordship venture so soon to expose yourself to the Weather?

_Lord Fop._ Sir, I will venture as soon as I can, to expose myself to the Ladies: tho' give me my Cloke, however; for in that Side-bax, what between the Air that comes in at the Door on one side, and the intolerable Warmth of the Masks on t'other, a Man gets so many Heats and Colds, 'twou'd destroy the Canstitution of a Harse.

_Ser._ [_Putting on his Cloke._] I wish your Lordship wou'd please to keep House a little longer, I'm afraid your Honour does not well consider your Wound.

_Lord Fop._ My Wound!----I wou'd not be in Eclipse another Day, tho' I had as many Wounds in my Guts as I have had in my Heart.

_Enter ~Young Fashion~._

_Young Fash._ Brother, your Servant. How do you find yourself to-day?

_Lord Fop._ So well, that I have arder'd my Coach to the Door: So there's no great Danger of Death this baut, _Tam_.

_Young Fash._ I'm very glad of it.

_Lord Fop._ _aside._] That I believe's a Lye. Pr'ythee, _Tam_, tell me one thing: Did not your Heart cut a Caper up to your Mauth, when you heard I was run thro' the Bady?

_Young Fash._ Why do you think it shou'd?

_Lord Fop._ Because I remember mine did so, when I heard my Father was shat thro' the Head?

_Young Fash._ It then did very ill.

_Lord Fop._ Pr'ythee, why so?

_Young Fash._ Because he us'd you very well.

_Lord Fop._ Well?--naw strike me dumb, he starv'd me. He has let me want a Thausand Women for want of a Thausand Paund.

_Young Fash._ Then he hindered you from making a great many ill Bargains; for I think no Woman is worth Money, that will take Money.

_Lord Fop._ If I were a younger Brother, I shou'd think so too.

_Young Fash._ Why, is it possible you can value a Woman that's to be bought?

_Lord Fop._ Pr'ythee, why not as well as a Pad-Nag?

_Young Fash._ Because a Woman has a Heart to dispose of; a Horse has none.

_Lord Fop._ Look you, _Tam_, of all things that belang to a Woman, I have an Aversion to her Heart; far when once a Woman has given you her Heart----you can never get rid of the rest of her Bady.

_Young Fash._ This is strange Doctrine: But pray in your Amours how is it with your own Heart?

_Lord Fop._ Why, my Heart in my Amours----is like----my Heart aut of my Amours; _a la glace_. My Bady, _Tam_, is a Watch; and my Heart is the Pendulum to it; whilst the Finger runs raund to every Hour in the Circle, that still beats the same time.

_Young Fash._ Then you are seldom much in love?

_Lord Fop._ Never, Stap my Vitals.

_Young Fash._ Why then did you make all this Bustle about _Amanda_?

_Lord Fop._ Because she was a Woman of an insolent Virtue, and I thought myself piqu'd in Honour to debauch her.

_Young Fash._ Very well. [_Aside._] Here's a rare Fellow for you, to have the spending of Five Thousand Pounds a-year. But now for my Business with him. [_To Lord Fop._] Brother, tho' I know to talk of Business (especially of Money) is a Theme not quite so entertaining to you as that of the Ladies, my Necessities are such, I hope you'll have patience to hear me.

_Lord Fop._ The greatness of your Necessities, _Tam_, is the worst Argument in the Warld far your being patiently heard. I do believe you are going to make a very good Speech, but, strike me dumb, it has the worst beginning of any Speech I have heard this Twelvemonth.

_Young Fash._ I'm very sorry you think so.

_Lord Fop._ I do believe thou art. But come, let's know thy Affair quickly; for 'tis a new Play, and I shall be so rumpled and squeezed with pressing thro' the Crawd, to get to my Servant, the Women will think I have lain all Night in my Clothes.

_Young Fash._ Why then (that I may not be the Author of so great a Misfortune) my Case in a Word is this: The necessary Expences of my Travels have so much exceeded the wretched Income of my Annuity, that I have been forced to mortgage it for Five Hundred Pounds, which is spent; so that unless you are so kind to assist me in redeeming it, I know no Remedy but to take a Purse.

_Lord Fop._ Why, Faith, _Tam_----to give you my Sense of the thing, I do think taking a Purse the best Remedy in the Warld; for if you succeed, you are reliev'd that way; if you are taken----you are reliev'd t'other.

_Young Fash._ I'm glad to see you are in so pleasant a Humour, I hope I shall find the Effects on't.

_Lord Fop._ Why, do you then really think it a reasonable thing I should give you Five Hundred Paunds?

_Young Fash._ I do not ask it as a Due, Brother, I am willing to receive it as a Favour.

_Lord Fop._ Thau art willing to receive it any haw, strike me speechless. But these are damn'd times to give Money in: Taxes are so great, Repairs so exorbitant, Tenants such Rogues, and Perriwigs so dear, that the Devil take me, I'm reduc'd to that extremity in my Cash, I have been farc'd to retrench in that one Article of sweet Pawder, till I have braught it dawn to Five Guineas a Manth. Naw judge, _Tam_, whether I can spare you Five hundred Paunds?

_Young Fash._ If you can't, I must starve, that's all, [_Aside._] Damn him.

_Lord Fop._ All I can say is, you should have been a better Husband.

_Young Fash._ 'Oons, if you can't live upon five thousand a-year, how do you think I should do't upon two hundred?

_Lord Fop._ Don't be in a Passion, _Tam_; far Passion is the most unbecoming thing in the Warld----to the Face. Look you, I don't love to say any thing to you to make you melancholy; but upon this occasion I must take leave to put you in mind, that a Running Horse does require more Attendance, than a Coach-Horse. Nature has made some difference 'twixt you and I.

_Young Fash._ Yes, she has made you older. [_Aside._] Pox take her.

_Lord Fop._ That is nat all. _Tam_.

_Young Fash._ Why, what is there else?

_Lord Fop._ [_Looking first upon himself, then upon his Brother._]----Ask the Ladies.

_Young Fash._ Why, thou Essence Bottle, thou Musk-Cat, dost thou then think thou hast any Advantage over me, but what Fortune has given thee?

_Lord Fop._ I do----stap my Vitals.

_Young Fash._ Now, by all that's great and powerful, thou art the Prince of Coxcombs.

_Lord Fop._ Sir----I am praud of being at the Head of so prevailing a Party.

_Young Fash._ Will nothing then provoke thee?--Draw, Coward.

_Lord Fop._ Look you, _Tam_, you know I have always taken you for a mighty dull Fellow, and here is one of the foolishest Plats broke out, that I have seen a long time. Your Paverty makes your Life so burdensome to you, you would provoke me to a Quarrel, in hopes either to slip thro' my Lungs into my Estate, or to get yourself run thro' the Guts, to put an end to your Pain. But I will disappoint you in both your Designs; far with the Temper of a Philasapher, and the Discretion of a Statesman--I will go to the Play with my Sword in my Scabbard.

[_Exit ~Lord Fop~._

_Young Fash._ So! Farewel, Snuff-Box. And now, Conscience, I defy thee. _Lory!_

_Enter ~Lory~._

_Lo._ Sir.

_Young Fash._ Here's rare News, _Lory_; his Lordship has given me a Pill has purg'd off all my Scruples.

_Lo._ Then my Heart's at ease again: For I have been in a lamentable Fright, Sir, ever since your Conscience had the Impudence to intrude into your Company.

_Young Fash._ Be at peace, it will come there no more: My Brother has given it a wring by the Nose, and I have kick'd it down Stairs. So run away to the Inn; get the Horses ready quickly, and bring them to old _Coupler_'s, without a Moment's Delay.

_Lo._ Then, Sir, you are going straight about the Fortune.

_Young Fash._ I am: away; fly, _Lory_.

_Lo._ The happiest Day I ever saw. I'm upon the Wing already.

[_Exeunt several ways._

+SCENE+, _A Garden_.

_Enter ~Loveless~ and Servant_.

_Lov._ Is my Wife within?

_Ser._ No, Sir, she has been gone out this Half-hour.

_Lov._ 'Tis well; leave me.

_Solus._

Sure Fate has yet some Business to be done, Before _Amanda_'s Heart and mine must rest; Else, why amongst those Legions of her Sex, Which throng the World, Shou'd she pick out for her Companion The only one on Earth Whom Nature has endow'd for her undoing? Undoing was't, I said----Who shall undo her? Is not her Empire fix'd? Am I not hers? Did she not rescue me, a groveling Slave, When, chain'd and bound by that black Tyrant Vice, I labour'd in his vilest Drudgery? Did she not ransom me, and set me free? Nay, more: When by my Follies sunk To a poor tatter'd, despicable Beggar, Did she not lift me up to envy'd Fortune? Give me herself, and all that she possest? Without a Thought of more Return, Than what a poor repenting Heart might make her, Han't she done this? And if she has, Am I not strongly bound to love her for it? To love her--Why, do I not love her then? By Earth and Heaven, I do! Nay, I have Demonstration that I do: For I would sacrifice my Life to serve her. Yet hold----If laying down my Life Be Demonstration of my Love, What is't I feel in favour of _Berinthia_? For shou'd she be in danger, methinks, I cou'd incline To risk it for her Service too; and yet I do not love her. How then subsists my Proof?-- --O, I have found it out. What I would do for one, is Demonstration of my Love; And if I'd do as much for t'other: it there is Demonstration of my Friendship----Ay----it must be so. I find I'm very much her Friend.--Yet let me ask myself one puzzling Question more: Whence springs this mighty Friendship all at once? For our Acquaintance is of a later Date. Now Friendship's said to be a Plant of tedious Growth, its Root compos'd of tender Fibres, nice in their Taste, cautious in spreading, check'd with the least Corruption in the Soil, long ere it take, and longer still ere it appear to do so; whilst mine is in a Moment shot so high, and fix'd so fast, it seems beyond the Power of Storms to shake it. I doubt it thrives too fast.

[_Musing._

_Enter ~Berinthia~._

--Ah, she here!--Nay, then take heed, my Heart, for there are Dangers towards.

_Ber._ What makes you look so thoughtful, Sir? I hope you are not ill.

_Lov._ I was debating, Madam, whether I was so or not; and that was it which made me look so thoughtful.

_Ber._ Is it then so hard a matter to decide? I thought all People had been acquainted with their own Bodies, tho' few People know their own Minds.

_Lov._ What if the Distemper, I suspect, be in the Mind?

_Ber._ Why then I'll undertake to prescribe you a Cure.

_Lov._ Alas, you undertake you know not what.

_Ber._ So far at least then allow me to be a Physician.

_Lov._ Nay, I'll allow you so yet farther: For I have reason to believe, shou'd I put myself into your Hands, you wou'd increase my Distemper.

_Ber._ Perhaps I might have Reasons from the College not to be too quick in your Cure; but 'tis possible, I might find ways to give you often Ease, Sir.

_Lov._ Were I but sure of that, I'd quickly lay my Case before you.

_Ber._ Whether you are sure of it or no, what Risk do you run in trying?

_Lov._ O, a very great one.

_Ber._ How?

_Lov._ You might betray my Distemper to my Wife.

_Ber._ And so lose all my Practice.

_Lov._ Will you then keep my Secret?

_Ber._ I will, if it don't burst me.

_Lov._ Swear.

_Ber._ I do.

_Lov._ By what?

_Ber._ By Woman.

_Lov._ That's swearing by my Deity. Do it by your own, or I shan't believe you.

_Ber._ By Man then.

_Lov._ I'm satisfy'd. Now hear my Symptoms, and give me your Advice. The first were these:

When 'twas my Chance to see you at the Play, A random Glance you threw, at first alarm'd me, I cou'd not turn my Eyes from whence the Danger came: I gaz'd upon you, till you shot again, And then my Fears came on me. My Heart began to pant, my Limbs to tremble, My Blood grew thin, my Pulse beat quick, My Eyes grew hot and dim, and all the Frame of Nature Shook with Apprehension. 'Tis true, some small Recruits of Resolution My Manhood brought to my Assistance, And by their Help I made a Stand a while, But found at last your Arrows flew so thick, They cou'd not fail to pierce me; So left the Field, And fled for shelter to _Amanda_'s Arms. What think you of these Symptoms, pray?

_Ber._ Feverish every one of 'em. But what Relief pray did your Wife afford you?

_Lov._ Why, instantly she let me Blood, which for the present much assuag'd my Flame. But when I saw you, out it burst again, and rag'd with greater Fury than before. Nay, since you now appear, 'tis so increas'd, that in a Moment, if you do not help me, I shall, whilst you look on, consume to Ashes.

[_Taking hold of her Hand._

_Ber._ [_Breaking from him._] O Lard, let me go: 'Tis the Plague, and we shall all be infected.

_Lov._ [_Catching her in his Arms, and kissing her._] Then we'll die together, my charming Angel.

_Ber._ O Ged----the Devil's in you. Lard, let me go, here's somebody coming.

_Enter Servant._

_Serv._ Sir, my Lady's come home, and desires to speak with you: She's in her Chamber.

_Lov._ Tell her I'm coming.

[_Exit Serv._

_To Ber._ But before I go, one Glass of Nectar more to drink her Health.

_Ber._ Stand off, or I shall hate you, by Heavens!

_Lov._ [_Kissing her._] In Matters of Love, a Woman's Oath is no more to be minded than a Man's.

_Ber._ Um----

_Enter ~Worthy~._

_Wor._ Ha! What's here? my old Mistress, and so close, I'faith! I wou'd not spoil her Sport for the Universe.

[_He retires._

_Ber._ O Ged----Now do I pray to Heaven, [_Exit ~Loveless~ running._] with all my Heart and Soul, that the Devil in Hell may take me, if ever----I was better pleas'd in my Life--This Man has bewitch'd me, that's certain. [_Sighing._] Well, I am condemn'd, but, Thanks to Heaven, I feel myself each Moment more and more prepar'd for my Execution--Nay, to that degree, I don't perceive I have the least fear of Dying. No, I find, let the Executioner be but a Man, and there's nothing will suffer with more Resolution than a Woman. Well, I never had but one Intrigue yet: But I confess I long to have another. Pray Heaven it end as the first did tho', that we may both grow weary at a time; for 'tis a melancholy thing for Lovers to outlive one another.

_Enter ~Worthy~._

_Wor._ [_Aside._] This Discovery's a lucky one, I hope to make a happy use on't. That Gentlewoman there is no Fool; so I shall be able to make her understand her Interest. [_To_ Ber.] Your Servant, Madam; I need not ask you how you do, you have got so good a Colour.

_Ber._ No better than I us'd to have, I suppose.

_Wor._ A little more Blood in your Cheeks.

_Ber._ The Weather's hot.

_Wor._ If it were not, a Woman may have a Colour.

_Ber._ What do you mean by that?

_Wor._ Nothing.

_Ber._ Why do you smile then?

_Wor._ Because the Weather's hot.

_Ber._ You'll never leave roguing, I see that.

_Wor._ [_Putting his Finger to his Nose._] You'll never leave----I see that.

_Ber._ Well, I can't imagine what you drive at. Pray tell me what you mean?

_Wor._ Do you tell me, it's the same thing.

_Ber._ I can't.

_Wor._ Guess!

_Ber._ I shall guess wrong.

_Wor._ Indeed you won't.

_Ber._ Psha! either tell, or let it alone.

_Wor._ Nay, rather than let it alone, I will tell. But first I must put you in mind that, after what has past 'twixt you and I, very few things ought to be Secrets between us.

_Ber._ Why what Secrets do we hide? I know of none.

_Wor._ Yes, there are two; one I have hid from you, and t'other you wou'd hide from me. You are fond of _Loveless_, which I have discover'd; and I am fond of his Wife----

_Ber._ Which I have discover'd.

_Wor._ Very well; now I confess your Discovery to be true, what do you say to mine?

_Ber._ Why, I confess----I wou'd swear 'twere false, if I thought you were Fool enough to believe me.