Part 7

Sir _Tun._ With all my heart, anywhere.

_Lord Fop._ Nay, for Heaven's sake, Sir, do me the favour to put me in a clean Room, that I mayn't daub my Clothes.

Sir _Tun._ O when you have married my Daughter, her Estate will afford you new ones: Away with him.

_Lord Fop._ A dirty Country Justice is a barbarous Magistrate, stap my Vitals----

[_Exit Constable with Lord ~Foppington~._

_Young Fash._ [_Aside._] I gad I must prevent this Knight's coming, or the House will grow soon too hot to hold me.

_To_ Sir _Tun._] Sir, I fancy 'tis not worth while to trouble Sir _John_ upon this impertinent Fellow's Desire: I'll send and call the Messenger back----

Sir _Tun._ Nay, with all my heart; for to be sure he thought he was far enough off, or the Rogue wou'd never have nam'd him.

_Enter Servant._

_Serv._ Sir, I met Sir _John_ just lighting at the Gate; he's come to wait upon you.

Sir _Tun._ Nay, then it happens as one cou'd wish.

_Young Fash._ [_Aside._] The Devil it does! _Lory_, you see how things are, here will be a Discovery presently, and we shall have our Brains beat out: For my Brother will be sure to swear he don't know me: Therefore run into the Stable, take the two first Horses you can light on, I'll slip out at the Back-Door, and we'll away immediately.

_Lo._ What, and leave your Lady, Sir?

_Young Fash._ There's no Danger in that, as long as I have taken possession; I shall know how to treat with them well enough, if once I am out of their reach. Away, I'll steal after thee.

[_Exit ~Lory~, his Master follows him out at one Door, as Sir ~John~ enters at t'other._

_Enter Sir ~John~._

Sir _Tun._ Sir _John_, you are the welcom'st Man alive; I had just sent a Messenger to desire you'd step over, upon a very extraordinary Occasion--we are all in Arms here.

Sir _John._ How so?

Sir _Tun._ Why, you must know----a sinical sort of a tawdry Fellow here (I don't know who the Devil he is, not I) hearing, I suppose, that the Match was concluded between my Lord _Foppington_ and my Girl _Hoyden_, comes impudently to the Gate, and with a whole Pack of Rogues in Liveries, wou'd have pass'd upon me for his Lordship: But what does I? I comes up to him boldly at the Head of his Guards, takes him by the Throat, strikes up his Heels, binds him Hand and Foot, dispatches a Warrant, and commits him Prisoner to the Dog-kennel.

Sir _John._ So, but how do you know but this was my Lord? for I was told he set out from _London_ the Day before me, with a very fine Retinue, and intended to come directly hither.

Sir _Tun._ Why now to shew you how many Lies People raise in that damn'd Town, he came two Nights ago Post, with only one Servant, and is now in the House with me: But you don't know the Cream of the Jest yet; this same Rogue, (that lies yonder Neck and Heels among the Hounds) thinking you were out of the Country, quotes you for his Acquaintance, and said, if you were here, you'd justify him to be Lord _Foppington_, and I know not what.

Sir _John._ Pray will you let me see him?

Sir _Tun._ Ay, that you shall presently----here, fetch the Prisoner.

[_Exit Servant._

Sir _John._ I wish there ben't some Mistake in the Business, where's my Lord? I know him very well.

Sir _Tun._ He was here just now; see for him, Doctor, tell him Sir _John_ is here to wait upon him.

[_Ex. Chaplain._

Sir _John._ I hope, Sir _Tunbelly_, the young Lady is not married yet.

Sir _Tun._ No, things won't be ready this Week; but why do you say, you hope she is not married?

Sir _John._ Some foolish Fancies only, perhaps I'm mistaken.

_Re-enter Chaplain._

_Bull._ Sir, his Lordship is just rid out to take the Air.

Sir _Tun._ To take the Air! Is that his _London_ Breeding, to go to take the Air, when Gentlemen come to visit him?

Sir _John._ 'Tis possible he might want it, he might not be well, some sudden Qualm perhaps.

_Enter Constable, ~&c.~ with Lord ~Foppington~._

_Lord Fop._ Stap my Vitals, I'll have Satisfaction.

Sir _John._ [_Running to him._] My dear Lord _Foppington_!

_Lord Fop._ Dear _Friendly_, thou art come in the critical Minute, strike me dumb.

Sir _John._ Why, I little thought to have found you in Fetters.

_Lord Fop._ Why truly the World must do me the justice to confess, I do use to appear, a little more _degagé_: But this old Gentleman, not liking the Freedom of my Air, has been pleased to skewer down my Arms like a Rabbit.

Sir _Tun._ Is it then possible that this shou'd be the true Lord _Foppington_ at last?

_Lord Fop._ Why what do you see in his Face to make you doubt of it? Sir, without presuming to have any extraordinary Opinion of my Figure, give me leave to tell you, if you had seen as many Lords as I have done, you would not think it impossible a Person of a worse _Taille_ than mine, might be a modern Man of Quality.

Sir _Tun._ Unbind him, Slaves: my Lord, I'm struck dumb, I can only beg Pardon by Signs; but if a Sacrifice will appease you, you shall have it. Here, pursue this _Tartar_, bring him back----Away, I say, a Dog, Oons----I'll cut off his Ears and his Tail, I'll draw out all his Teeth, pull his skin over his Head----and----what shall I do more?

Sir _John._ He does indeed deserve to be made an Example of.

_Lord Fop._ He does deserve to be _chartrè_, stap my Vitals.

Sir _Tun._ May I then hope I have your Honour's Pardon?

_Lord Fop._ Sir, we Courtiers do nothing without a Bribe; that fair young Lady might do Miracles.

Sir _Tun._ _Hoyden_, come hither, _Hoyden_.

_Lord Fop._ _Hoyden_ is her Name, Sir?

Sir _Tun._ Yes, my Lord.

_Lord Fop._ The prettiest Name for a Song I ever heard.

Sir _Tun._ My Lord----here's my Girl, she's yours, she has a wholesome Body, and virtuous Mind; she's a Woman complete, both in Flesh and in Spirit; she has a Bag of mill'd Crowns, as scarce as they are, and fifteen hundred a-year flitch'd fast to her Tail: so go thy ways, _Hoyden_.

_Lord Fop._ Sir, I do receive her like a Gentleman.

Sir _Tun._ Then I'm a happy Man, I bless Heaven, and if your Lordship will give me leave, I will, like a good Christian at _Christmas_, be very drunk by way of Thanksgiving. Come, my noble Peer, I believe Dinner's ready; if your Honour pleases to follow me, I'll lead you on to the Attack of a Venison Pasty.

[_Exit Sir ~Tun.~_

_Lord Fop._ Sir, I wait upon you: Will your Ladyship do me the favour of your little Finger, Madam?

_Miss._ My Lord, I'll follow you presently. I have a little Business with my Nurse.

_Lord Fop._ Your Ladyship's most humble Servant; come, Sir _John_, the Ladies have _des Affaires_.

[_Exeunt ~Lord Fop~. and Sir ~John~._

_Miss._ So, Nurse, we are finely brought to bed! What shall we do now?

_Nurse._ Ah, dear Miss, we are all undone! Mr. _Bull_, you were us'd to help a Woman to a Remedy.

[_Crying._

_Bull._ A lack a-day, but it's past my Skill now, I can do nothing.

_Nurse._ Who wou'd have thought that ever your Invention shou'd have been drain'd so dry?

_Miss._ Well, I have often thought old Folks Fools, and now I'm sure they are so; I have found a way myself to secure us all.

_Nurse._ Dear Lady, what's that?

_Miss._ Why, if you two will be sure to hold your Tongues, and not say a word of what's past, I'll e'en marry this Lord too.

_Nurse._ What! two Husbands, my Dear?

_Miss._ Why you had three, good Nurse, you may hold your Tongue.

_Nurse._ Ay, but not all together, sweet Child.

_Miss._ Psha, if you had, you'd ne'er thought much on't.

_Nurse._ O but 'tis a Sin--Sweeting.

_Bull._ Nay, that's my business to speak to, Nurse. I do confess, to take two Husbands for the Satisfaction of the Flesh, is to commit the Sin of Exorbitancy; but to do it for the Peace of the Spirit, is no more than to be drunk by way of Physick: Besides, to prevent a Parent's Wrath, is to avoid the Sin of Disobedience; for when the Parent's angry the Child is froward. So that upon the whole Matter, I do think, tho' Miss shou'd marry again, she may be sav'd.

_Miss._ I'cod, and I will marry again then, and so there is an end of the Story.

[_Exeunt._

+ACT+ V. +SCENE+ _London_.

_Enter ~Coupler~, ~Young Fashion~, and ~Lory~._

_Coup._ Well, and so Sir _John_ coming in--

_Young Fash._ And so Sir _John_ coming in, I thought it might be Manners in me to go out, which I did, and getting on Horseback as fast as I cou'd, rid away as if the Devil had been at the Rear of me; what has happen'd since, Heav'n knows.

_Coup._ I'gad, Sirrah, I know as well as Heaven.

_Young Fash._ What do you know?

_Coup._ That you are a Cuckold.

_Young Fash._ The Devil I am! By who?

_Coup._ By your Brother.

_Young Fash._ My Brother! which way?

_Coup._ The old way, he has lain with your Wife.

_Young Fash._ Hell and Furies, what dost thou mean?

_Coup._ I mean plainly, I speak no Parable.

_Young Fash._ Plainly! Thou dost not speak common Sense, I cannot understand one Word thou sayst.

_Coup._ You will do soon, Youngster. In short, you left your Wife a Widow, and she married again.

_Young Fash._ It's a Lye.

_Coup._----I'cod, if I were a young Fellow, I'd break your Head, Sirrah.

_Young Fash._ Dear Dad, don't be angry, for I'm as mad as _Tom ~of~ Bedlam_.

_Coup._ When I had fitted you with a Wife, you shou'd have kept her.

_Young Fash._ But is it possible the young Strumpet cou'd play such a Trick?

_Coup._ A young Strumpet, Sir----can play twenty Tricks.

_Young Fash._ But pr'ythee instruct me a little farther; whence comes thy Intelligence!

_Coup._ From your Brother, in this Letter; there, you may read it.

[_~Young Fashion~ reads._

Dear _Coupler_,

[Pulling off his Hat,] _I Have only time to tell thee in three Lines, or thereabouts, that here has been the Devil! That Rascal ~Tam~, having stole the Letter thou hadst formerly writ for me to bring to Sir ~Tunbelly~, form'd a damnable Design upon my Mistress, and was in a fair way of Success when I arriv'd. But after having suffer'd some Indignities (in which I have all daub'd my embroider'd Coat) I put him to flight. I sent out a Party of Horse after him, in hopes to have made him my Prisoner, which if I had done, I would have qualified him for the Seraglio, stap my Vitals. The Danger I have thus narrowly 'scap'd, has made me fortify myself against further Attempts, by entering immediately into an Association with the young Lady, by which we engage to stand by one another, as long as we both shall live. In short, the Papers are seal'd, and the Contract is sign'd, so the Business of the Lawyer is ~achevé~; but I defer the divine part of the thing till I arrive at ~London~, not being willing to consummate in any other Bed but my own._

Postscript,

_'Tis possible I may be in the Tawn as soon as this Letter; for I find the Lady is so violently in love with me, I have determin'd to make her happy with all the Dispatch that is practicable, without disardering my Coach Harses._

So, here's rare Work, I'faith!

_Lo._ I'gad, Miss _Hoyden_ has laid about her bravely.

_Coup._ I think my Country-Girl has play'd her part, as well as if she had been born and bred in St. _James_'s Parish.

_Young Fash._----That Rogue the Chaplain.

_Lo._ And then that Jade the Nurse, Sir.

_Young Fash._ And then that drunken Sot, _Lory_, Sir; that cou'd not keep himself sober to be a Witness to the Marriage.

_Lo._ Sir----with respect----I know very few drunken Sots that do keep themselves sober.

_Young Fash._ Hold your prating, Sirrah, or I'll break your Head; dear _Coupler_, what's to be done?

_Coup._ Nothing's to be done till the Bride and Bridegroom come to Town.

_Young Fash._ Bride and Bridegroom! Death and Furies! I can't bear that thou shouldst call them so.

_Coup._ Why, what shall I call them, Dog and Cat?

_Young Fash._ Not for the World, that sounds more like Man and Wife than t'other.

_Coup._ Well, if you'll hear of them in no Language, we'll leave them for the Nurse and the Chaplain.

_Young Fash._ The Devil and the Witch.

_Coup._ When they come to Town----

_Lo._ We shall have stormy Weather.

_Coup._ Will you hold your tongues, Gentlemen, or not?

_Lo._ Mum.

_Coup._ I say when they, come, we must find what Stuff they are made of, whether the Churchman be chiefly compos'd of the Flesh, or the Spirit; I presume the former----For as Chaplains now go, 'tis probable he eats three Pound of Beef to the reading one Chapter----This gives him carnal Desires, he wants Money, Preferment, Wine, a Whore; therefore we must invite him to Supper, give him fat Capons, Sack and Sugar, a Purse of Gold, and a Plump Sister. Let this be done, and I'll warrant thee, my Boy, he speaks Truth like an Oracle.

_Young Fash._ Thou art a profound Statesman, I allow it; but how shall we gain the Nurse?

_Coup._ O never fear the Nurse, if once you have got the Priest, for the Devil always rides the Hag. Well, there's nothing more to be said of the Matter at this time, that I know of; so let us go and enquire, if there's any News of our People yet, perhaps they may be come. But let me tell you one thing by the way, Sirrah, I doubt you have been an idle Fellow; if thou hadst behav'd thyself as thou shoud'st have done, the Girl wou'd never have left thee.

[_Exeunt._

+SCENE+, _~Berinthia~'s Apartment._

_Enter her ~Maid~, passing the Stage, follow'd by ~Worthy~._

_Wor._ Hem, Mrs. _Abigail_, is your Mistress to be spoken with?

_Ab._ By you, Sir, I believe she may.

_Wor._ Why 'tis by me I wou'd have her spoken with.

_Ab._ I'll acquaint her, Sir.

[_Exit ~Ab~._

_~Worthy~ solus._

One Lift more I must persuade her to give me, and then I'm mounted. Well, a young Bawd, and a handsome one for my Money, 'tis they do the Execution; I'll never go to an old one, but when I have occasion for a Witch. Lewdness looks heavenly to a Woman, when an Angel appears in its Cause; but when a Hag is Advocate, she thinks it comes from the Devil. An old Woman has something so terrible in her Looks, that whilst she is persuading your Mistress to forget she has a Soul, she stares Hell and Damnation full in her Face.

_Enter ~Berinthia~._

_Ber._ Well, Sir, what News bring you?

_Wor._ No News, Madam, there's a Woman going to cuckold her Husband.

_Ber._ _Amanda_?

_Wor._ I hope so.

_Ber._ Speed her well.

_Wor._ Ay, but there must be a more than a God-speed, or your Charity won't be worth a Farthing.

_Ber._ Why, han't I done enough already?

_Wor._ Not quite.

_Ber._ What's the matter?

_Wor._ The Lady has a Scruple still which you must remove.

_Ber._ What's that?

_Wor._ Her Virtue----she says.

_Ber._ And do you believe her?

_Wor._ No, but I believe it's what she takes for her Virtue; it's some Relicks of lawful Love: she is not yet fully satisfy'd her Husband has got another Mistress, which unless I can convince her of, I have opened the Trenches in vain; for the Breach must be wider, before I dare storm the Town.

_Ber._ And so I'm to be your Engineer!

_Wor._ I'm sure you know best how to manage the Battery.

_Ber._ What think you of springing a Mine? I have a Thought just now come into my Head, how to blow her up at once.

_Wor._ That would be a Thought, indeed!

_Ber._----Faith, I'll do't, and thus the Execution of it shall be. We are all invited to my Lord _Foppington_'s to-night to Supper, he's come to Town with his Bride, and maketh a Ball, with an Entertainment of Musick. Now you must know, my Undoer here, _Loveless_, says he must needs meet me about some private Business (I don't know what 'tis) before we go to the Company. To which end he has told his Wife one Lye, and I have told her another. But to make her amends, I'll go immediately, and tell her a solemn Truth.

_Wor._ What's that?

_Ber._ Why, I'll tell her, that to my certain Knowledge her Husband has a Rendezvous with his Mistress this Afternoon; and that if she'll give me her Word, she will be satisfy'd with the Discovery, without making any violent Inquiry after the Woman, I'll direct her to a Place, where she shall see them meet.--Now, Friend, this I fancy may help you to a critical Minute. For home she must go again to dress. You, with your good-breeding, come to wait upon us to the Ball, find her all alone, her Spirit enflam'd against her Husband for his Treason, and her Flesh in a Heat from some Contemplations upon the Treachery, her Blood on a Fire, her Conscience in ice; a Lover to draw, and the Devil to drive----Ah, poor _Amanda_!

_Wor._ [_Kneeling._] Thou Angel of Light, let me fall down and adore thee!

_Ber._ Thou Minister of Darkness, get up again, for I hate to see the Devil at his Devotions.

_Wor._ Well, my incomparable _Berinthia_----How shall I requite you----

_Ber._ O ne'er trouble yourself about that: Virtue is its own Reward: There's a Pleasure in doing good, which sufficiently pays itself. Adieu.

_Wor._ Farewel, thou best of Women.

[_Exeunt several ways._

_Enter ~Amanda~, meeting ~Berinthia~._

_Aman._ Who was that went from you?

_Ber._ A Friend of yours.

_Aman._ What does he want?

_Ber._ Something you might spare him, and be ne'er the poorer.

_Aman._ I can spare him nothing but my Friendship; my Love already's all dispos'd of: Tho', I confess, to one ungrateful to my Bounty.

_Ber._ Why there's the Mystery! You have been so bountiful, you have cloy'd him. Fond Wives do by their Husbands, as barren Wives do by their Lap-Dogs; cram them with Sweetmeats till they spoil their Stomachs.

_Aman._ Alas! Had you but seen how passionately fond he has been since our last Reconciliation, you wou'd have thought it were impossible he ever should have breath'd an Hour without me.

_Ber._ Ay but there you thought wrong again, _Amanda_; you shou'd consider, that in Matters of Love Men's Eyes are always bigger than their Bellies. They have violent Appetites, 'tis true, but they have soon din'd.

_Aman._ Well; there's nothing upon Earth astonishes me more than Men's Inconstancy.

_Ber._ Now there's nothing upon Earth astonishes me less, when I consider what they and we are compos'd of. For Nature has made them Children, and us Babies. Now, _Amanda_, how we us'd our Babies, you may remember. We were mad to have them, as soon as we saw them; kiss'd them to pieces, as soon as we got them; then pull'd off their Clothes, saw them naked, and so threw them away.

_Aman._ But do you think all Men are of this Temper?

_Ber._ All but one.

_Aman._ Who's that?

_Ber._ _Worthy_.

_Aman._ Why, he's weary of his Wife too, you see.

_Ber._ Ay, that's no Proof.

_Aman._ What can be a greater?

_Ber._ Being weary of his Mistress.

_Aman._ Don't you think 'twere possible he might give you that too?

_Ber._ Perhaps he might, if he were my Gallant; not if he were your's.

_Aman._ Why do you think he shou'd be more constant to me, than he wou'd to you? I'm sure I'm not so handsome.

_Ber._ Kissing goes by Favour; he likes you best.

_Aman._ Suppose he does; That's no Demonstration he wou'd be constant to me.

_Ber._ No, that I'll grant you: But there are other Reasons to expect it; for you must know after all, _Amanda_, the Inconstancy we commonly see in Men of Brains, does not so much proceed from the Uncertainty of their Temper, as from the Misfortunes of their Love. A Man sees, perhaps, an hundred Women he likes well enough for an Intrigue, and away; but possibly, thro' the whole Course of his Life, does not find above one, who is exactly what he could wish her: now her, 'tis a thousand to one, he never gets. Either she is not to be had at all (tho' that seldom happens, you'll say) or he wants those Opportunities that are necessary to gain her; either she likes somebody else much better than him, or uses him like a Dog, because he likes no body so well as her. Still something or other Fate claps in the way between them and the Woman they are capable of being fond of. And this makes them wander about from Mistress to Mistress, like a Pilgrim from Town to Town, who every Night must have a fresh lodging, and 's in haste to be gone in the Morning.

_Aman._ Tis possible there may be something in what you say; but what do you infer from it, as to the Man we were talking of?

_Ber._ Why, I infer, that you being the Woman in the World the most to his Humour, 'tis not likely he would quit you for one that is less.

_Aman._ That is not to be depended upon, for you see Mr. _Loveless_ does so.

_Ber._ What does Mr. _Loveless_ do?

_Aman._ Why, he runs after something for Variety, I'm sure he does not like so well as he does me.

_Ber._ That's more than you know, Madam.

_Aman._ No, I'm sure on't: I am not very vain, _Berinthia_; and yet I'll lay my Life, if I could look into his Heart, he thinks I deserve to be prefer'd to a thousand of her.

_Ber._ Don't be too positive in that neither: A Million to one, but she has the same Opinion of you. What wou'd you give to see her?

_Aman._ Hang her, dirty Trull; tho' I really believe she's so ugly, she'd cure me of my Jealousy.

_Ber._ All the Men of Sense about Town say she's handsome.

_Aman._ They are as often out in those things as any People.

_Ber._ Then I'll give you further Proof----all the Women about Town say, she's a Fool: Now I hope you are convinc'd?

_Aman._ Whate'er she be, I'm satisfy'd he does not like her well enough to bestow any thing more than a little outward Gallantry upon her.

_Ber._ Outward Gallantry!----[_Aside._] I can't bear this. [_To Aman._] Don't you think she's a Woman to be fobb'd off so. Come, I'm too much your Friend, to suffer you should be thus grossly impos'd upon, by a Man who does not deserve the least part about you, unless he knew how to set a greater Value upon it. Therefore in one word, to my certain knowledge, he is to meet her now, within a quarter of an Hour, somewhere about that _Babylon_ of Wickedness, _Whitehall_. And if you'll give me your Word that you'll be content with seeing her mask'd in his Hand, without pulling her Headclothes off, I'll step immediately to the Person, from whom I have my Intelligence, and send you word whereabouts you may stand to see 'em meet. My Friend and I'll watch 'em from another place, and dodge 'em to their private Lodging: But don't you offer to follow 'em, lest you do it awkwardly, and spoil all. I'll come home to you again, as soon as I have earth'd 'em, and give you an account in what corner of the House the Scene of their Lewdness lies.

_Aman._ If you can do this, _Berinthia_, he's a Villain.

_Ber._ I can't help that, Men will be so.

_Aman._ Well! I'll follow your Directions; for I shall never rest till I know the worst of this matter.

_Ber._ Pray, go immediately, and get yourself ready then. Put on some of your Woman's Clothes, a great Scarf and a Mask, and you shall presently receive Orders. [_Calls within._] Here, who's there? get me a Chair quickly.

_Serv._ There are Chairs at the Door, Madam.

_Ber._ 'Tis well, I'm coming.

_Aman._ But pray, _Berinthia_, before you go, tell me how I may know this filthy Thing, if she would be so forward (as I suppose she will) to come to the Rendezvous first; for, methinks, I would fain view her a little.

_Ber._ Why, she's about my heighth; and very well shap'd.

_Aman._ I thought she had been a little crooked?

_Ber._ O no, she's as straight as I am. But we lose time, come away.

[_Exeunt._

_Enter ~Young Fashion~, meeting ~Lory~._

_Young Fash._ Well, will the Doctor come?

_Lo._ Sir, I sent a Porter to him as you order'd me. He found him with a Pipe of Tobacco and a great Tankard of Ale, which he said he wou'd dispatch while I cou'd tell three, and be here.

_Young Fash._ He does not suspect 'twas I that sent for him?

_Lo._ Not a Jot, Sir, he divines as little for himself, as he does for other Folks.

_Young Fash._ Will he bring Nurse with him?

_Lo._ Yes.

_Young Fash._ That's well; where's _Coupler_?

_Lo._ He's half way up the Stairs taking Breath; he must play his Bellows a little, before he can get to the top.

_Enter ~Coupler~._

_Young Fash._ O here he is. Well, old Phthisick, the Doctor's coming.